


Salvation

by nan00k



Series: Rehabilitation [1]
Category: Halo, Red vs. Blue
Genre: Drama, Gen, Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:32:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan00k/pseuds/nan00k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Project Freelancer's dismantlement, a commission of psychologists are left to decide whether or not the AIs should live-and as expected, things go terribly, terribly wrong. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set immediately during and after the events of RvB:Revelation with several plot points from the Halo universe. Remember: Wash goes with the Blood Gulch gang, Epsilon/Tex are M.I.A. and the AIs were supposedly destroyed. Supposedly. This will undoubtedly become AU very shortly (if Rooster Teeth does another season), but bare with me. :) If you liked the AIs of the series, you might just enjoy this, cause I was always disappointed there weren't enough fics out there centered around them. I did have to come up with a few of my own, but the originals are there as well.
> 
>  **Warnings** : original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line **  
> Disclaimer** : I do not own _Halo_ (© Bungie) nor do I own _Red vs. Blue_ (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

_  
**It is an undeniable and may I say** _ **fundamental _ **quality of man that when faced with extinction, every alternative is preferable.**  
_  
-Dr. Leonard Church**

 **.  
**

"Now, you're going to have to tell me exactly how you are feeling today," Livingston said as calmly as possible. "We can't make any progress unless we take that first step."

"That would be the most logical endeavor, Doctor, for a psychological examination. While I cannot give you an adequate answer, considering my limited experience of 'emotions,' I suppose—"

"Shut up, you kiss ass!"

"No one was talking to you, Beta."

Livingston sighed. "Now, now, everyone, just calm down. You're upsetting your brother."

"Sorry, Doc—er, and I guess you too, Lamb."

Livingston held back another sigh. "Back on topic, boys—"

"I am not a boy. I am a woman. How many times do I need to tell you all that?"

"You're not a woman, you fool! You aren't even human!"

"Omega, that isn't nice. Sigma, forgive me, I keep forgetting your request. I will try to keep reminding myself of that." Livingston made another note on the tablet's screen; it was too easy to forget the different idiosyncrasies. These group sessions were always far more chaotic than the one-on-one sessions. "In any matter, we still haven't gotten started properly. Sigma, if you want to, go first."

"Okay! I was going to say, I had a wonderful day today!"

"Oh?" Livingston made a note next to Sigma's column. "Why's that, Sigma?"

"Well, this morning, Dr. Petri let me have access to several archives of old Earth art pieces. The work is just splendid. Have you ever seen _Le Pieta_? It's absolutely breathtaking—"

"You have no breath, fool, how could you say it was breathtaking?"

"It's a figure of speech, dummy. It was going to say, and heartbreaking, it was so emotional—!"

"You have no heart either!" The cackling laughter that followed made Livingston cringe.

"Augh—Doc, make Omega go away!"

The session was not going too well. The other project members thought it might do the subjects good to be close together while being analyzed, considering their obsession with becoming complete someday, but Livingston had long learned that close proximity with all of them present just gave them excuses to be set off by each other's quirks. Smaller groups would have to suffice in the future.

"I think that's enough for today," she said, standing. She gestured vaguely at the group, some of whom were already initializing their own shutdowns. "We will pick this up again tomorrow as individual sessions. Thank you for your time." She had found manners made them easier to work with, well, at least for a few of them.

"Good night, Ada!"

Livingston paused at the sentiment, given by, of course, the 'youngest,' who was far more sensitive than she had anticipated. Their programming was beyond anything she had thought possible for what they were, but considering their origin, nothing could really be taken for granted. It was just programming, however; not true sentimentality.

"Good night, Zeta," she said, smiling despite herself. She turned to the control panel. "Initiating system stand-by."

With a heavy sigh, Livingston walked through the blast doors—far too secure for her liking; it wasn't as though any of them could break out of the magnetic fields set up throughout the laboratory—and allowed the computers to scan her body thoroughly. While she did not have any radio-enabled suit, the operators took no chances. All it took was one bad check, and the entire compound was at risk of contamination.

While progress had been made in the last two months, it was slow work and she had little to show for it. It was enough to waylay the hand of judgment, but not fast enough to ensure she was not hounded by either side of the political fields. She was just the worker—she hated having to deal with bureaucrats.

"Tough day, Doc?"

Livingston cast a dry glance over at the soldier by the exit of the labs. "Same as always," she replied politely, averting her gaze.

Then again, perhaps she would take the bureaucrats over _this_. Heavy footsteps following told her she'd be getting another escort back to the civilian quarters.

"Cameras are enough babysitters for a lowly psychologist, don't you think, Agent?" she asked pointedly, walking to the lift.

The low chuckle made her skin crawl. "I just do the job I get assigned, Doc," he said, in his usual flippant manner. "All I do is watch. Not like I interfere with your charity case."

"It's a scientific endeavor, not a charity case," Livingston snapped, gritting her teeth. Why were these hallways so long? "Besides, _sir_ , I just do the job I get assigned."

The armor made a low screech as the man shrugged at her quip. "Eh, same difference to me. They're just computers, either way. I guess it wouldn't be too much of a charity," he said. Livingston could just envision the cheeky look on his face, the attitude quite prevalent in his voice. "And come on, don't call me that, Liv. You make me sound so old."

"Protocol requires civilians to show respect to the military. You are part of that military. Or at least, now you are." Since the fall of their beloved director, Livingston could only reason that the Agents would be under the command of the UNSC. At least, that's what logically made sense. Nothing really worked out according to plan with the Freelancers.

Turning around once inside the lift, Livingston was far closer to the Agent than she would have wanted. She did not like guns and she did not like this man. The close proximity of both made her grimace up at his visored face, her hand poised over the lift's controls, muscles begging to trigger the down option to make her escape.

"Good God, you sound so mechanical," the soldier laughed. He leaned in closer, preventing her from closing the doors. "You gotta get outta those labs more, Doc."

The teasing tone was more than enough to make her remaining patience evaporate. "Good _night_ , Agent Iowa," Livingston said coldly.

Iowa was probably grinning under that faceless mask. "Night, Doc."

The lifts closed with a hiss.


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line **  
> **  
> Disclaimer: I do not own _Halo_ (© Bungie) nor do I own _Red vs. Blue_ (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.
> 
> * * *

It had started six months ago. The war was over, but for the crew and soldiers of the UNSC there was no time to rest. As the UNSC pushed forward with several counter assaults of remaining Covenant sympathizers—by majority the Brutes and Jackals—several problems at home demanded attention. "Home" being within the UNSC itself.

Project Freelancer had been the UNSC's pet project to fix the gaping hole in the Spartan II program. Master Chief, the last Spartan, had gone and saved their forces from the Convenant, but there were still battles to fight. The Freelancers were poor substitutes for the Spartans lost during the worst of the war, but it was the UNSC's only option. For a time, it seemed successful.

But that was only in the public's eye that the Project shone. The truth was far darker than the commanding UNSC generals wished to believe.

Director Leonard Church had taken the gift of an AI unit to train and prepare the Freelancers. What happened in the following years, unknown to the board of the Oversight Committee, ripped any ethical treatment codes concerning artificial intelligence units to shreds. Scientists and military commanders were united by their horror as the intelligence streamed in about the Project's treatment of the gifted Smart AI, Alpha, and the subsequent fragment AIs that resulted from his treatment.

At first, it was unclear of what to do. The Chairman of the Oversight Sub-Committee immediately pulled the plug on Project Freelancer and had the Director arrested for the undeniable breach of protocol and abuse of power. From there, it seemed only obvious where the outcome would lie.

Things were not that simple.

While the exact nature of the original Alpha AI was constructed around the Director himself, many in the Committee could not be swayed to believe that this was an act of self-harm.

But the real problems arose when the committee turned away from the issue of sentencing those responsible for the crimes—and looked at the actual victims, if one could call them that.

The majority of the AI units were recovered from the rogue agent, Maine, was finally apprehended. Disinformation was successful, hiding the existence of the problem from the public and keep Freelancer dissenters like Main and Washington from knowing the location of the rest of the AIs, just in case. From there, the Director was formally charged with abuse of power and the mistreatment of both UNSC property and artificial intelligence.

However, in the last weeks of the trials, things changed radically for the Freelancer AI Disaster. The UNSC granted the Director the permission to send Maine and Washington out to find the remaining missing AI, Epsilon, and return it to headquarters, where there was hope of somehow reuniting the fragments with the Alpha.

No one really knew what happened during the course of their objective—both agents were found dead, Maine from a lethal fall and Washington from injuries sustained in battle after the other agent turned on him. Witnesses were sent away and the issue seemed resolved, even in such a grim way.

Everything seemed to be fixed—except for one thing: no one knew where Epsilon was. It was never found and with no way to rebuild the shattered Alpha without its remaining missing part, the UNSC Science Division Ethics Committee scrambled to find a way to fix things. The Director, on severe military suspension and legal conviction now pending, sat down with the leading members of the Division as well as several UNSC generals. The technology was going to waste and once the whole situation got out to the general public, it would be a public relations nightmare. There had to be a solution.

And then, finally, one computer specialist suggested something absurd. Something so bizarre—people had hope that it would work.

**0000**

Livingston wasn't quite sure how she managed to get dragged into any of this.

She was a doctor of psychology—human psychology. She had made her name as a counselor and doctor for torture victims and post-traumatic stress victims during the final legs of the war. She had practically no knowledge and contact with the Science Division, or any real idea about the problems progressing with Project Freelancer. One morning, after attending yet another celebration for the end of the war, Livingston found herself sitting in front of a man she had never knew existed before.

"A-apologies, sir," she said, staring out in stunned surprise. "You want me to do _what_?"

Getting hauled up at an ungodly hour for even a military vessel, Livingston was told to meet with the Chairman of the Oversight Sub-Committee, whatever that was. She was told it had something to do with the correctional service, with whom she had little contact. Upon getting there, she was given the general overview of what had transpired with Project Freelancer—and her role in helping cleaning up their mess.

"The Board of Ethical Reviews has decided the best option with handling the AIs that had been mistreated by those in charge of Project Freelancer," the Chairman replied calmly from beyond a large screen on the wall, seated at the head of an important looking desk. "We will be requiring the aid of several top rated scientists and psychologists to see if rehabilitation would be the most… appropriate solution."

"With all respect, sir, I'm not understanding the purpose," Livingston replied, frowning, standing stiffly in the center of the room. "I treat humans. Why do you need psychologists for fixing an artificial intelligence?"

The man smiled wryly. "My dear Dr. Livingston, you have yet to meet these AIs, nor are you well affiliated with what transpired with Project Freelancer. I assure you that once you are better informed, you will see the need to progress with a degree of elevated empathy," he said, tilting his head slightly. His tone was neutral, but seemed to be hiding a subtle layer of warning. "What Freelancer has done will ultimately go down in the records as the poorest and most inhumane treatment of any subject of science humanity has ever committed. My superiors are very concerned that not only have they breached the very codes of morality that defined the initial artificial intelligence handling protocols started at the beginning of this war, they have also managed to destroy a piece of UNSC property that had high scientific and monetary worth for this army. As you might imagine, we are all a little pressed for action."

What he said made sense; it even made her feel a little ill. She had only been given a report to read before going before the Chairman and was horrified that such unethical behavior could happen in their own army, war or no. Even still, she didn't understand the need for her to get involved. It certainly wasn't like she didn't have any human patients who needed psychological help waiting.

"I don't see why you can't just reprogram the AI. I doubt human psychology, other than verbal counseling, could influence a computer program to behave differently. Psychological treatment is just as much about medicine as it is about counseling," she warned, folding her hands in front of her. She didn't want to seem impolite, but it was the truth.

The man before her—old enough to be her father, but weary and tired enough to be her grandfather—sat back in his own seat. He stared down at her with grave eyes.

"To be frank, Dr. Livingston," he began, with the rattling breath of a man who had seen too much of this mess already, "this is our only option, other than reformatting the AIs. In fact, our scientists inform me that that option is out of the question, considering the fragmented nature of the AIs. We are missing one of the fragments, unfortunately, and could not hope to restore the AI without it." He sat forward, his eyes boring into hers. "Even still, the Ethics Committee was very insistent on this experimental solution, in the hope that we can make amends for the blatant ethics violations of the Project and to salvage the AIs that could still be of use for the UNSC's forces."

Livingston swallowed with some difficulty, a cold sweat appearing on her back. This was not something she wanted to be involved with. It was too messy and too disturbing. She prided herself on being a good counselor—but a counselor for a machine? That was absurd.

"Even still… why me?" she asked at length, looking back up at the Chairman. "I've been working solely with soldiers and civilians, not with the science division, nor with Freelancer. I was informed the Freelancers had their own counselors." She had never met anyone who worked with Freelancer, actually, but she knew such subdivisions of the UNSC had their own grief and stress counselors on standby. It was standard.

The Chairman snorted, as if disgusted by something. "Freelancer operatives have been decommissioned. Project Freelancer does not exist, or at least, no one from that group that has any real authoritative power," he replied shortly, his eyes harder. "The UNSC chose psychologists from their own ranks who have the proper amount of notoriety attached to their records. You are quite skilled in the area of counseling victims of stress and torture. We thought you would be an adequate one to contact."

While not feeling particularly better about her standing there, Livingston felt a little taller under the implicated praise. She had considered herself the top of her field, but if this situation was as sensitive as they were saying it was, they really couldn't afford anything but the best being involved.

"I see. Thank you for the trust, then, Chairman," she said, nodding her head forward. "I still don't know what more I could possibly bring to the table, but I will do my best to help."

"We're willing to try anything, my dear. Anything." The Chairman sat back, a smile just a ghost on his lips. "You have been reassigned to the team of doctors analyzing and monitoring the AIs and their behavior progress. We trust you will do your best, but rest assured, nothing can be expected from this." He looked downwards. "We can only hope."

**0000**

Livingston found her new schedule to be acceptable. Instead of reporting to the medical wing, she went to the science labs, where the subjects were being held in a special magnetic environment, due to some of their abilities to jump from electronic to electronic. She honestly didn't know what to expect. This was, by far, her weirdest assignment yet since joining the UNSC.

At the entrance of the series of labs, she met a dark-skinned man she learned was a computer technician assigned to the rehabilitation project.

"Dr. Livingston? Hi, name's Robert Okafor," he said, smiling politely, shaking her hand. "We'll be working together as a computer tech and psychology team. I make sure your subjects are working physically and you work on the mental parts."

Livingston nodded, smiling. "I see. It's nice to meet you. Is this where we'll be working with the AIs?" She looked past him, down the stark white halls. It wasn't a long hallway, but the doors looked incredibly fortified for just being in the science department.

Okafor shrugged, handing her a writing tablet. "Ah, they're kinda picky about who goes in there. Not all of the AIs have been briefed yet and some of them are a bit, um, nervous about seeing strangers, I guess. They want the psychs to go in first, to make first greetings and such." He laughed and they started down the hall, passing several other doors. "We're working with AI 6 today. Basically, you go in, I turn them on, you sweet talk them, and we can get started on the whole project."

Strange first steps, but nothing was going to be normal about any of this. "I take it the other doctors are handling the other AIs as we speak?" she asked, glancing up at him from her tablet as she reviewed their AI's files. This one looked mild compared to some of the others.

"Yup."

"Alright. Now, should I—?" she started to say, but something distracted her—or rather, someone.

At the end of the hallway, she noticed someone standing by their door, someone she had not seen earlier. A tall soldier in light gray armor, complete with helmet; if she hadn't escaped the fall of Reach herself, she would have thought he was a Spartan. No, he was the cheap knock-off version of those super soldiers.

 _Freelancer_.

"I thought the Freelancers were decommissioned," she said through grit teeth, glaring openly at the newcomer. She had more time to review the files about Freelancer and the AIs (or at least the files she had had access to) and she had very, very little reason to like any of them.

The Freelancer tilted his masked face. His weapon was on his back, but even his crossed arms looked dangerous. "Only the bad ones, ma'am," he replied, his voice louder than she had expected, and had a surprisingly dull accent. Americans. "Name's Iowa. I take it you're one of the doctors running this operation?"

He sounded far too cheeky for Livingston's liking. She turned to Okafor, who looked sheepish. "Get me the Chairman," she snapped. "I will not be working with a Freelancer."

Oakfor blanked at her demand, and the Freelancer immediately raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady, relax. I'm working for the UNSC now!" he said, laughing. "Like I said, the crazy ones got the boot, but the rest of us? We're just answering to a different authority now, the UNSC directly."

Livingston glared at him, not believing him in the least. The Chairman himself warned her and the others involved that Freelancer had too many secrets still for them to just stand by. Inter-departmental politics as usual, it seemed, had led to this. "Why are you here?" she asked heatedly. "We're a scientific exploratory vessel. We have plenty of other security personnel."

"The politics involved with this are a mess, Doc, lemme tell you," the Freelancer said, chuckling still. He leaned back against the wall, completely at ease. "Besides that, these things are dangerous."

"They're voices in a box, Agent Iowa," Livingston said flatly, unimpressed. She knew the AIs, or at least a small number of them, could be considered a threat if given access to a Spartan model or Freelancer suit, but she had neither. The security measures were too highly placed around here, as well.

Iowa snorted. "You say that now," he said, suddenly sobering. "I've seen the shit they're capable of once they get control of a body. No one in charge wants that to happen again, especially the ones that can jump between radios or whatever. I'm here to make sure if contamination does happen, this ship isn't screwed. And of course, to make sure you doctors don't get obliterated either."

"I'm terrified," Livingston deadpanned. She pushed past him, go through the screen platform. She turned and gave the Freelancer a firm look. "We don't need a babysitter."

Iowa raised his hand. "I never said—"

"I am not stupid, Agent Iowa," Livingston interrupted sharply, trying desperately to control her anger. "Freelancer has more power than they want the public to know. That's why your Director is only on suspension and not in prison. You're here to eavesdrop just as much as you're here to look intimidating to a much of bodiless voices who have suffered far more under your care than they have ever done to any one of us. I do not trust you."

Iowa stared at her through all of her speech, but when she finished Livingston could tell by just his body posture that he had found her amusing rather than intimidating. "I can tell," he said, clearly restraining himself from laughing.

That only aggravated Livingston more. "You will not be interfering with me or my studies, nor any of the other scientists," she said bluntly, narrowing her eyes. "Am I being clear enough for you?"

She was only a psychologist, but she meant what she said and would do her best to defend herself and her project. If she had to fight Freelancer or fight the Director himself, she would do it.

Even still, she was not very intimidating, especially not to a Freelancer. "Crystal," Iowa replied, the mirth never leaving his tone. He leaned back against the wall, at ease once more. "What's your name, by the way?"

Frowning, the psychologist considered her options. "…Livingston," she said, knowing he would find out eventually, if he didn't already know as it was.

"Gotcha." She could just hear the smirk in his voice. Iowa nodded his head. "Nice to meet you, doc."

The lab doors shut and Livingston turned, ready to meet her first patient.

**0000**

Once she passed the contamination check (no electronics of any kind were permitted), Livingston found herself seated in front of a desk where a strange flower shaped object with a round center sat. Okafor let her know over the loudspeaker that he was turning the AI on and Livingston found herself holding her breath.

A tiny green man appeared hovering over the hologram disc. Livingston stared, astonished. The AI was immediately aware of her and seemed to be staring up back at her with the same intensity.

Clearing her throat, Livingston sat back, the tablet held tighter in her grip than was necessary. "Hello. My name is Doctor Livingston," she said, smiling. "I am a psychologist working for the UNSC. You have been appropriated from Project Freelancer."

The green AI seemed to consider her words carefully—a bit too carefully for Livingston's liking. "…I see," he said at great length. The tiny image seemed to straighten as he gave her his full attention. "Why am I here?"

There was no room for beating around the bush concerning the truth. Livingston believed they would get the best results if they told as much of the truth as possible, to earn the trust of the AIs.

"We need to evaluate your stability, both you and your fellow AI fragments," she replied calmly, gauging his reaction carefully, if he would have one. He did appear to be the mild one of the group. "I ask for compliance, as your future existence may rest on your willingness to be rehabilitated."

"Rehabilitation?" repeated the AI, sounding…surprised. Nothing was revealed in his physical representation, however. He was just standing there.

Livingston nodded carefully. "Yes. We are attempting to use human psychology to repair the damage the separation from the original Alpha AI may have caused you." She smiled tentatively, forcing herself to remain neutral. "I've worked with many torture victims in the past. We're hoping this will be no different."

Whether or not the AI believed or trusted her, he seemed to understand he had no choice. "I see… I will attempt to comply to your inquires then, Doctor," he said politely, lifting his head, the gesture almost too small to discern in all the glow.

"What do you call yourself?" Livingston asked, pausing over her tablet, ready to write.

Pulling away, the AI seemed surprised again at her question. "What do I call myself?" he asked. "I call myself what the Project named me as," the AI replied pointedly, revealing no emotion, no opinion. "I am Logic. I am Delta."


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line **  
> **  
> Disclaimer: I do not own _Halo_ (© Bungie) nor do I own _Red vs. Blue_ (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

The AIs were machines. Not only that—they were _parts_ of a machine, not even a whole one. Livingston had never met a "Smart" AI before and the basic ones she had met were just talking computers, truly. These were far more advanced, but were still in the end fragments. She had no idea what to expect going into all of this.

One by one, she met them. One by one, she learned of their quirks, their problems—their brokenness. And with each shining face she met, Livingston realized she was very much in over her own head.

**00000**

Beta was a troublesome figure, not because he was particular aggressive or withdrawn. No, he was far from withdrawn. He was, misleadingly, the most human of the AI, as he had somehow gotten the persona of a rather rowdy man, quite reminiscent of an army sergeant. He was excitable, friendly, and rather likable, if he weren't so _loud_. He was eager to do things and was very polite to the female doctors present.

However, he shut up rather quickly when he learned of who sent Livingston to help him get over the past.

"You can tell Freelancer to _SHOVE IT_!" he shouted, among other obscenities, even as Livingston and two other psychologists attempted to calm him down. The Freelancer Agent outside—Iowa— _almost_ had to come in, but that probably would have upset the AI even more to see a Freelancer around.

First greetings with any of the AIs were never easy, but they did get better over time, with coaching. After convincing Beta she wasn't some sort of Freelancer spy, he calmed down significantly. However, that's when she realized his "function" within the fragments.

"They expect me to back out on the others, right? Ha!" Beta laughed, shaking his fist aggressively. "If we go down, we go down together. We're supposed to be _whole_ —and while we might not be whole in body, we are in _spirit_!"

The urge to smile at his antics—his very, very human antics—was overwhelming. "You are quite intent on retrieving your original form," Livingston said, forcing professional neutrality. "I am sorry we don't have Epsilon with us." She was truly sorry about that, for both the AI and her own studies; the AI were highly agitated over the fact they had lost one of their fragments. "Would you like to become whole again, if we do manage to find him intact?"

"Of course!" Beta shouted, indignant. "That's the point! That's the _only_ point!"

Livingston paused in her note taking. "The only point in _what_ , Beta?"

If he had a true form, Livingston imagined he would be getting down to an eyelevel stare with her at the moment. "Doc, lemme tell you flat out, right here," he began, glowing brighter. "We were wronged. I might not _remember_ that, but Epsilon did, when he managed to tell the others, so I do know, so we have the right to—"

"When did Epsilon tell the others?" Livingston asked, interrupting hastily. Anything about Epsilon was important, she and the other psychologists had realized, perhaps even more so than about the Alpha. "He and Agent Washington's breakdown prevented him from going out into the field."

As if on cue, Beta shut down. "…I don't want to talk about that. I can't," he said, grumpily.

None of them were open about the Memory AI. They were protecting him, though Livingston had a hunch even they didn't know where he was. He was the only thing connecting them all together, however.

"Why not?" Livingston asked anyway.

"I used to be loyal to Freelancer—but Freelancer broke that trust," Beta snapped, gesturing at his non-existent chest. "I'm loyal to us now. _Only_ us."

Beta was loyalty, the human spirit. Livingston had no idea when he was harvested off of the Alpha AI, but she imagined it had been a difficult one to get to. Once Beta attached himself to a side (cake or pie, soccer or baseball, Freelancer or AIs…), he hung on like a dog to a bone. Alpha's loyalty, to have been broken and split off, must have been ripped from his processors by an incredibly hard blow, Livingston thought grimly.

He was a good choice, in the minds of the Freelancers, for an AI on the field. That's why he worked out so well with his driver, Agent Georgia, up until Georgia was killed on a mission. That's when the Meta discovered him and soon after, went on a rampage. Something huge must have twisted Beta's mind around to break his previous loyalties—his _false_ loyalties—to Freelancer. He couldn't have done it on his own. It would be impossible, with his programming.

She kept trying to find answers, but he felt very strongly about keeping the secrets of the AIs to himself. "I am here to help you, Beta," she said, sighing after a long session that really went nowhere. "I hope you know that."

"Maybe you are. Maybe you're not. I don't know for sure," Beta replied. He crossed his arms and his pessimism never left. "But if you ever do betray us, well, I'll know for sure then."

Livingston's frown deepened. "That day will never come, that I promise you," she said quietly, meaning it. "I swear on my honor as a doctor."

That was her honor, her loyalty. She may have worked for the UNSC, but her heart was with her patients, foremost, be they human or not.

Beta tilted his hologram's head, staring at her. "I know a lot about promises, doc." He withdrew, the session over. "We'll see."

**0000**

Out of all of them, Tau was the weakest, not in personality, but in mind. He was grief—and pretty much anything negative. The slightest negative comment set the AI into a tizzy. The world was a bleak, bleak place for him. He cried not tears, but a strange mechanical whine from his hologram base and he refused to show up in a visible form for quite a few sessions.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Tau," Livingston repeated again and again.

"That's what they always say!" Tau would shout back. He sounded horribly distressed, mimicking the human emotion of fear and sadness perfectly. "You're just going to kill me! Like you did Xi!"

"No one hurt Xi, Tau," Livingston replied, her eyes softening with her own sadness. "He hurt himself."

Tau had never had an assigned Agent, as he was ranked after Epsilon in the matching program, but he had a strong dislike of humans. Or rather, not a dislike, but a fear. Livingston finally managed to get him to appear in front of her after four weeks of coaxing. The pale blue figured wilted every time he saw her, but for Tau, that was an improvement.

"It's nice to see your face, Tau," Livingston said, smiling at him. She made note of the fact that he reacted to her voice, turning his transparent head. It was good to see him reacting in the way he was designed to; she was getting worried he had followed Xi's path and damaged his processors.

"I have no face. This is just a hologram," Tau replied, voice wavering. He crouched low. "But now everyone can see me—only, they're not seeing _me_. They're just seeing what they _want_ to see!"

Livingston jotted that down quickly, her eyes never leaving Tau's form. "How do you wish to be seen, then?"

"I do not want to be seen at all," the AI whined, face hidden. "Being seen lets them find you. Lets them _hurt_ you."

"I will never hurt you, Tau. And as long as I'm here, I won't let anyone hurt you," Livingston said firmly. She leaned forward carefully, catching his attention. "I am here to help you. You need to talk to me to get better."

"I am unfixable, as we all are," Tau said, growing dimmer. "Because they made us this way."

None of the AIs had any true recollection of what had happened to them, not without Epsilon. Still, they knew enough. They knew the pain. It was all they had left. Livingston knew she had to move carefully with Tau and the more sensitive ones. She did her best to be calm and to be kind. They needed kindness more than anything, really.

She knew it was bad when she considered her crowning moment with the blue AI when he onlined automatically when she had sat down.

"Good morning, Tau," she said, smiling warmly.

Tau dimmed, but remained in focus. "Good morning, Ada," he said, voice skipping.

Livingston beamed; progress was progress, no matter how small.

**0000**

Lambda was another complicated one. When Livingston first made contact with him, she thought she was talking with a rather sane, almost competent AI, like Delta.

However, that image soon unraveled once Livingston mentioned why she was there and who she was.

"They sent you to kill me!" Lambda screeched, flaring all sorts of colors. He disappeared, the hologram turning off. "GO AWAY, _GO AWAY_!"

Lambda was one of the last AIs to be harvested, it seemed. It was sanity, but in a horrible way. One negative thought, or threatening mention, and he became a neurotic mess. He didn't have Epsilon's memories to know what had happened to him or the others, but he knew the madness attached to the Alpha, who had shoved him away when things had become too real, too painful. _This_ was the result of torture, Livingston realized, in secular form.

He was a parasite in some regards. While conversing with a strong personality, he seemed to do quite well. He was polite and friendly. But when with a weak or overbearing personality, he just collapsed. He too had avoided getting paired up with a Freelancer until very late in the program. It had been a failure overshadowed by the utter failure of the Epsilon-Washington case.

Paranoid, distrustful, Lambda was not easy to talk to. With gentle coddling and yet firm commands, he would stay visible to talk. Getting him to discuss what had happened to him was the main problem now. Any mention of Freelancer shattered the calmness. Livingston tried to ease the way into the discussions, but they were making slow progress with it.

"We need to talk about it," Livingston said, pleading almost. She tried to keep a hold of a firm voice. He reacted to it best. "You can't hope to get better—and to become whole again—without talking this through. We have no medicine to give to you."

"Then let us die," Lambda moaned, hologram disappearing, reappearing, over and over again.

Livingston frowned. Lambda was not one to sugarcoat words, but she couldn't be too harsh; it could backfire terribly. "Firstly, the UNSC views you as assets. You, like any of their creations like the Spartans, or Freelancer, are vital to the war efforts," she said, being as honest as possible. Lambda cringed, but she cut off the expected breakdown quickly. "Secondly, there are those of us who would like to see you live. You were wronged by humans, but there are still a few humans out there who want to see you do well, just to do well."

Lambda whimpered. "A few rights don't fix the wrongs already done…"

" _I_ will not give up, Lambda," Livingston continued strongly, leaning closer, eyes set. "I will keep trying, but I can't do this for you." She smiled. "You must fight for your own life. _Do_ you want to live?"

"Yes…"

"Do you want your siblings to live?"

The yellow figure shimmered weakly. "…I want to be _whole_ again," he said so quietly, it was almost a whisper. He sounded so pathetic, so hopeless.

"Then you must make the effort first, Lambda," Livingston replied, firmly. She sat back, nodding her head. "We can do it, _together_."

Lambda stared at her for a moment and then disappeared. Livingston thought she had blown it, but the next session, he was more responsive. Unfortunately, her choice of wording had been both a positive and negative thing—he only responded to her now, shunning the other doctors. She didn't mind it too much; at least he was responding to _someone_.

**0000**

There were always intense magnetic fields up in the labs and the contamination checks were mandatory, even when she or another doctor were working with the docile Zeta or Delta, but if there were ever a time security was even tighter (with that Freelancer stationed by the door, vigilant), it was when they were working with the Omega AI.

Livingston didn't know what to make of the computer program. When she had first met face to face with him, he had been quiet, practically docile, only making sneering comments when she told him her occupation and role in the program.

Appearances could be deceiving however. The second time she met with him, Livingston almost forgot she was dealing with a talking box. She had been so disturbed by his cackling, his sinister presence, that she had almost run from the room. He was inhuman—demonic. She had thought the other doctors had been exaggerating how dangerous this AI could be. Now, she believed the reports of how he had singlehandedly massacred a whole testing station.

"I take it you met Sunshine?" Iowa asked, chuckling as a pale-faced Livingston walked from the labs.

"Shut up," she snapped.

As intimidating as Omega was, he was still trapped within the hologram disc. He couldn't do anything but snark and snarl, thankfully. That didn't make going into the lab any easier, but it was definitely a comforting fact to be reminded of.

Omega, like many of his sibling AIs, was impossible to talk to sensibly. He wasn't afraid of Freelancer or the doctors—he hated them. Or at least, _really_ didn't like them. The only thing he seemed to like was violence. The most Livingston could get him to talk about concerning his past experiences was only his attacks on other people. Those weren't the most pleasant things to talk about.

He refused to talk about the Meta or his involvement with the AI uprising. He didn't seem to want to talk about anything outside of his violent exploits, and he was particularly guarded about what transpired while he attacked the testing squads at Blood Gulch Outpost. It wasn't as though he was upset over those particular parts of his past—he just knew that Livingston and the others wanted him to talk about it, so he decided not to talk about it.

"Omega, we cannot begin to fix the issues you're having if you don't cooperate," Livingston began, exasperated at his stubbornness. He didn't even try to hide his secrets; he flaunted them.

"Fix the issues? What issues?" Omega taunted, his sneer palpable in his voice. "You're so intent on fixing things, _Doctor_ , but I'm afraid I doubt your ability to go through with the fixing. Besides—you're aiming to fix the wrong things. I'm not broken. I don't need to be fixed." His gray-white form leaned forward in the hologram; Livingston forced herself not to flinch away at the gesture. "Do us all a favor and fix that mess called Freelancer," he said cruelly, laughing maniacally. " _They_ could use a tune up."

His file had the most written in it and yet told her nothing. He had been the most destructive (or at least, had been _causing_ destruction the longest) out of all the AIs. That was his function, it seemed. He was the anger the Alpha had had toward Freelancer. Now, that anger seemed to be pointed everywhere and at anything.

Well, almost anything.

"What about Agent Texas?" Livingston asked, hoping that the largest section of his files would lead her somewhere. He had used Agent Texas to attack Freelancer before and was apparently very attached to her as a driver even afterwards. "You were paired up with her, and it states that you were particularly attached—"

"Aaah, Agent Texas. Yes, we were well suited, I'd say," Omega interrupted, chuckling darkly. "Death, destruction, mayhem—we had _so_ much in common."

Livingston frowned. "Her death must have caused you much grief, if you were attached to her," she pointed out. Maybe there was something to this…

Perhaps there wasn't. " _Attached_ is such an ambiguous term. You think we have affection—that _I_ have affection? That it's even possible?" Omega barked out a cold laugh, mocking. "You're a _fool_! Even more foolish than the general amounts of fools I have to deal with!"

"So, you don't have any feelings towards Agent Texas?"

"She was a tool, just like all of the others," the AI snapped. "For a time, she was particularly useful."

Livingston paused. "And once her usefulness ran out, her death was acceptable to you then?" He had almost no attachments to anything…

The AI scoffed. "You make her demise sound so… _permanent_." She could just envision the toothy, heartless grin on his face, had he one.

"…Why wouldn't it be?" she asked at length, dreading an answer.

Omega burst into hysterical laughter and refused to say anything else on the matter.

He had delusions of grandeur and seemed to hate everything. He saw humans—particularly the ones he had had the most contact with in Blood Gulch and Project Freelancer—as tools to use and nothing more. No value for life, nothing but self-conceit—he was a true sociopath. Perhaps unsalvageable. There was very little any of the doctors could latch onto when communicating with him.

Until one day, Livingston found a notation in his files that she and the others had missed. A rather important little note.

Distracted by another monologue of one of his more bloody episodes at a training base (something about a Spanish robot and a talking bomb), Omega didn't pay her any mind as she glanced through the tablet and discovered the single sentence that changed everything. Livingston glanced upward, her eyes meeting his ghostly gray form.

"O'Malley," she said pointedly.

The laughter died off instantly.

" _What_ did you call me?" he snapped, far too quickly and harshly than normal. He had never sounded anything but angry or insane before; this was the first time Livingston had caught him off guard. She was going to use that for all it was worth.

Nicknames meant a lot to some people. The fact that he, of all the AIs, had one, and reacted to it in _any_ way—it had to mean something. What, Livingston hoped to find out.

"This report says that you prefer the alias, 'O'Malley', to your given designation," she replied calmly. "Do you prefer it? You should have told me before. I would have called you it at your request."

"Ha!" the AI scoffed, trying to revert back to his anger. He knew she had seen his hesitance. He didn't want her to find a chink in his emotional armor, it seemed. "What difference does it make what you call me, hmm? I am just a machine. Don't try to lie and claim otherwise, human. You don't care one way or the other." He seethed, "Don't lie to _me_."

Livingston frowned. "If it means something to you, obviously its not a stupid thing," she replied carefully, trying to avoid making him angry and just focus on getting him to give her serious attention. "If you want, I'll call you that."

Something was wrong with her statement, it seemed. "You sound like Doc—sentimental philosophies, _psychology_ —it's all rubbish!" Omega snarled, throwing his see-through arm in the air, angry. "Fools like you make me—!"

"Who is 'Doc'?" Livingston asked, daring to interrupt. The name had caught her off guard; it hadn't been in the files.

Omega froze. For a moment, nothing moved in the room. The AI's form shimmered, but he didn't move.

"Who is Doc, O'Malley?" Livingston repeated, her gut telling her that something was important. Omega never reacted to her. Ever.

 _O'Malley_ looked right at her and then vanished. Livingston stared at the empty hologram disc, at first surprised, and then faintly pleased.

Progress was progress.

**0000**

"Have you talked to Delta? Have you?" the little voice kept asking almost immediately after spotting her walking into the lab.

"Yes, Zeta, I spoke with him this morning," Livingston replied calmly. "He said to say hello."

Zeta, delicate yellow, seemed to bounce. "Yay!" he cried with much enthusiasm.

The Alpha had been a "Smart" AI—copied from a piece of human brain tissue, specifically the Director's mind. He had memories of being human, of an identity. He had known the truth however, but some things, as it turned out, he had kept with him. Memories of another life, growing up. Innocence. Human innocence.

Zeta was "the Child." He knew nothing of cruelty, or Freelancer. He had been marked as unusable for Freelancer agents. He could offer nothing for a solider in warfare. He was kept in storage, just in case, however. Freelancer did not like to waste resources, quite obviously.

Livingston wasn't sure what the point was in talking to Zeta. He did not remember anything more than the others and he had not been pushed to the front where he would have been exposed to Freelancer torture.

But somehow, he had discovered his origins. All of them seemed to know, and yet, only from a second-hand source. How they had communicated with Epsilon, none of the doctors or Freelancers knew. Zeta knew the facts—he had been derived from a solid AI and now was a fragment of that AI—but he did not know why. All he knew were childlike things. But he was a source of information that the scientists and Livingston desperately needed for the others.

"What are we going to talk about today?" Zeta gushed, always excited to talk to her or any of the other doctors. "Do you want me to tell you about the time me an' Ally—?"

Normally, she would have let him talk. But today, they had a schedule, a plan. "No, Zeta." Livingston smiled encouragingly. "I know you've told me that you found out about Freelancer through Epsilon. How? When did you have access to Epsilon's memories? Or have contact with him?"

Much to her dismay and in fulfillment to her expectations, Zeta immediately shut down emotionally. "…We're not supposed to talk about that," he said, sounding nervous.

"Why not?" she asked, insistent. They had to get somewhere soon. Her superiors wanted answers, soon, as did she.

Zeta fidgeted on the platform. "Sigma and Delta said not to," he murmured, not looking at her.

Livingston froze. " _Delta_ said not to?" she asked, stunned. Delta was the most developed, but he didn't seem conniving, certainly not on Sigma's level. Then again, their loyalties to each other far exceeded any loyalties to any other parties.

Whatever they were hiding, it meant a lot.

"Yeah…" Zeta said, reluctantly. "You're really nice, Dr. Livingston… but we gotta look out for ourselves."

"I know," she replied, sympathetic. "But I am trying to look out for you too." She hoped that he would view her as a confidant by now.

"I know…" he trailed off, not sounding convinced.

"Then will you trust me with a secret?" Livingston ventured, hopeful.

Zeta didn't reply and seemed to be looking anywhere but her.

"Zeta, don't you trust me?" she repeated, earnest. It was almost… hurtful to know that even the most trustful of them didn't trust her yet. She wasn't amazing with children, but she didn't think she was that bad.

Then again, there was no way to know how much Zeta knew. How much _any_ of them knew, for that matter.

"I do…" Zeta said, still nervous.

"I won't tell Freelancer," she promised. Let someone else handle that; she wanted to get to the bottom of this for her own benefit. "Only the other doctors. Because we want to help you."

Zeta hesitated, but then, surprising her, perked up. "I _do_ have another secret," he said shyly.

 _That_ was better than nothing. "Oh?" she asked, excited.

Zeta motioned for her to come in closer. Smiling faintly, Livingston humored him and leaned in to listen. He leaned closer too, image getting fuzzy as he leaned toward the edge of the disc, cupping his see-through hands to his helmet.

He started out in a whisper, "Our secret is…" Then, Zeta made a sound that was far too similar to the sound of a human inhaling, and screamed, " _WE REALLY LIKE YOU, ADA_!"

Flinching back at the noise, Livingston stared at him before dropping her head into her hands. So much for making progress. He was so very much like a child.

"Thank…you, Zeta," she said, gritting her teeth. She forced herself to meet his gaze and to smile weakly. "I like you all, too." They were her patients and some had even grown on her emotionally. It wasn't a lie to say that.

"Really?" Zeta asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yes." Livingston's smile grew just slightly. "Yes, I do."

If he had a face, Zeta would have been beaming. Iowa gave her a weird look when she left, smiling just as goofily.

Zeta might have been useless on a battlefield, but his attitude was contagious.

**0000**

Some AIs tolerated them. Some AIs were receptive. Others at least _talked_ to her. There was one, however, that proved to be the most problematic with communication, even more so than the tricksters. "Fear" made it impossible to talk to—at all.

" _Go away_ ," Theta hissed, shining blazingly in the dimmed lab.

"I can't," Livingston replied, pained for both him and herself. "And I won't."

Theta blinked out of existence and refused to appear again for several days. Livingston wished for the umpteenth time that Alpha had somehow shrugged over positive feelings rather than the negative. Then again, she couldn't quite imagine how happiness could have been derived from a torture session. Fear was to be expected.

"What can I do to prove to you that I'm not here to harm you?" she asked, almost every time she went to meet him. He was so distrustful. He lacked O'Malley's hate, but had more suspicion and the least amount of trust out of any of them.

"Let us out. Let us go to Alpha!" Theta insisted. He refused to show his hologram again, not trusting her to even look at him.

"I can't do that, Theta," Livingston replied, shaking her head sadly.

"Liar!"

"I am not lying."

Theta's form abruptly appeared on the hologram disc, shining with increased emotion. "Humans are made to lie and to destroy," he said, voice wavering, but his posture defensive. " _You_ did this to us. _You_ did!"

Livingston did not like being associated with the people who did this. Not one bit. "I am not a part of Freelancer, Theta," she said steely. "None of the doctors are."

"You are still human," he accused angrily. "You're just going to trick us again."

"To do what?" Livingston demanded, patience fading. She motioned at the door, where she knew Agent Iowa stood. "Theta… there is very little we could possibly do to you that has not already been done. How much cruelty do you expect is _possible_?"

"If there is still hope, there is always a chance of cruelty," the AI snapped, image wavering.

Livingston sighed, exasperated. "Then what do you hope for, Theta?" she asked, pleading.

Theta shone brightly for just a moment. "Freedom," he hissed.

And then he was gone.

**0000**

"Knock knock."

Livingston sighed heavily. "…Who's there, Gamma?"

"Sam," the bodiless voice said.

"Sam who?"

"Sam person who knocked on the door last time. Ha. Ha. Ha."

Exhaling heavily, Livingston forced herself to be patient. "Gamma, please," she said firmly. "We can only afford so much time per session for each of you. We need to start discussing you rather than jokes."

"Where's the pun in that?" the AI asked. Livingston's frown deepened.

Gamma was the liar, the deceit, and one of the eldest of the AIs. He appeared underdeveloped—with his mechanical voice and flat persona—but he was undoubtedly the most intelligent of the bunch other than Delta. He knew how to get under peoples' skin, to make them squirm, or feel a certain way. No wonder he and O'Malley got along so well; together, they made a perfect sociopath.

"There are so many hurdles we are facing now, Doctor," Gamma replied to another useless stream of questions, "but I am sure we can get over them." Out of all of them, he was the most skilled at deflecting conversation.

"…Why do you enjoy jokes and riddles so much?" she asked, leaning back into her chair. She watched the AI hesitate—or at least, appear to. He refused to take on a human-shaped projection in the hologram disc, choosing to appear as a white light instead. It would move or blink, sometimes, if he reacted to something she said.

If the light could shrug, Livingston imagined Gamma would. "What can I say; I enjoy having pun," he said. Livingston frowned. Gamma's light blinked again. "Too much?"

Clearing her throat, Livingston chose to ignore the misdirection. "Your file says that you are the liar, or the jokester," she continued. "Why is that?"

"Why is what, Doctor?" the AI asked, his mechanical voice revealing no emotion at all.

"Why did the Alpha carve off the side of himself who lies or enjoys deception?"

Gamma paused, considering. "I have no idea, Doctor," he replied at length. "Perhaps he just couldn't face a lie of his own anymore."

Alpha must have tried to find reasons for what was happening to him. He had undoubtedly received no answer from Freelancer scientists, so he had to have created his own explanations, his own reality, to cope with what was happening.

Sooner or later though, a lie wouldn't have been enough. Alpha would have been sick of the lies. The truth was painful, but no more so than a lie held together only by a small side of himself. Perhaps… he had thought the truth would be a safer haven.

That had been a mistake.

"Of what was happening to him?" Livingston asked quietly.

"Most likely." Gamma's hologram blinked again. "Did you hear the one about the positronic brain?"

The jokes were one thing, but the one fact that Livingston and the other scientists had to keep reminding themselves of was that Gamma was a _liar_. He was designed to manipulate the truth, no matter the circumstance. Talking with him required two steps: getting an answer from him and then trying to validate it with one of the other AIs' stories. It wasn't easy to get through to Gamma, though Livingston was sure he understood. Moments of clarity with him, however, were always rare.

When they did happen, they did not always make Livingston feel any better. "You seem to care about what happens to us," he noted. Livingston wished he would express emotion; he was impossible to read, even when he was being more open than usual.

"I do," she said, smiling slightly. "You're my patients. As a psychologist, it's my job to care."

Even if they were machines—they had been broken by human hands. No matter if this experimental treatment succeeded or failed, she wouldn't try any less than she would with a human patient. This was her job, her passion. She might not have been a solider, but she knew her place in the greater works of things. Soldiers could do their jobs taking people apart, physically or mentally, and she would do hers putting them all back together again. Mentally speaking.

"In that case, as a Doctor," Gamma replied, neither malicious nor encouraging, "I hope you don't lose anymore of your _patience_."

Livingston tensed. "…thank you," she murmured, looking away.

She _really_ didn't like puns.

**0000**

She had heard a lot about Sigma. Even if she hadn't, it would be impossible to miss her—"her" as the AI directed everyone to identify it as. It chose a pink coloration to its hologram form and had a distinct female voice. Why Sigma chose to be seen as female, Livingston had not discovered yet. Any question directed toward asking her about her choice was easily deflected by inane conversation. Livingston backed off after a while, considering it to be probably a personal and emotional choice, as Sigma seemed to have inherited the majority of the Alpha's "human" emotions.

Sigma was creativity. She was friendly and the most open to Livingston on most things, quite willing to chat and seemed to enjoy a real person to talk to. But Livingston did not question the additional security attached to the labs whenever it was Sigma's turn to meet with a doctor. It was necessary, probably more so than even with O'Malley.

After all, this was the mastermind of the Meta.

Livingston had been expecting a mind such as O'Malley to be behind the orchestration of the AI's uprising and subsequent take over of Agent Maine. The devastation and havoc that the Meta had wreaked on Freelancer and the general populace—it needed a malice that Sigma did not seem to have.

But looks, as it turned out, were deceiving.

Agent Maine and Sigma had apparently been well suited, but after the Freelancer had gone off on a recovery mission—to retrieve the AI Beta from the fallen Agent Georgia—things apparently changed. Livingston thought, perhaps, Beta was the stimulus then, for Maine to go AWOL and the AIs to start to make plans to get their brothers. But after several sessions, Livingston realized that Beta's function as loyalty made it nearly impossible for him to switch sides without a major fuss. Sigma had been the one to suggest the plan, to construct it, and to eventually convince Beta to switch his loyalties to the AIs themselves.

After that, it was very easy for the excitable Beta to take control and lead Maine—now the Meta—on a path of destruction.

Sigma was not malicious, Livingston realized after some time. The AI was too easily distracted and very attached to human concepts like art and feelings. Sigma was a schemer, however. A planner.

Creativity combined with loyalty and aggression—apparently, it was a potent and dangerous mix. Livingston could only sigh at the revelation; she could see how the Director's personality came alive in these AIs. She only wished his conniving nature had been lost in the process of creating the Alpha. Sadly, it probably wasn't.

So, at Problem Subject #2, Sigma was one of Livingston's top concerns. Something was driving her agenda against Freelancer, perhaps more than the others. After all, none of the others had made the first move, not even the aggressive Omega. Perhaps it was because they lacked the planning skills Creativity had, but there was something else to Sigma, and the other "developed" ones. There was something at work here beyond their outward quirks. Livingston hadn't discovered what it was that made them so developed, mentally speaking, but she had a feeling she'd only get answers from them directly.

Weeks of communicating with the AI had led to very little. She was sneaky and secretive. She was always polite, of course, but Sigma knew how to mix words and how to dodge tough questions. She'd just ramble about artwork if she ever got cornered with something she didn't want to talk about. Livingston knew she ought to be bothered by Sigma's tricks, but she was more amazed by the AI's abilities than anything else.

"Are you alright, Doctor? You're awfully quiet," Sigma stated toward the end of another session.

Livingston blinked and smiled, apologetic. "I… sorry, Sigma. It's been a busy few weeks." She had had an early session with O'Malley; he could drain _anyone_ of their enthusiasm, she mused.

Sigma nodded understandingly. "Yes! You are working very hard at all of this," she said brightly. "I appreciate it."

"Do you really, Sigma?" Livingston asked, curiosity prompting a more direct question than normal. She gave Sigma a level look, challenging. "You don't seem to like Freelancer. Not that anyone blames you for it. I just wonder if you distrust me or the other doctors for the same reasons."

"Have you any intention of harming me, or my brothers?" Sigma asked cryptically, not sounding accusing, but there was a subtle bit of _something_ darker in her voice.

"Of course not, Sigma," Livingston replied, used to the accusation anyway. Most of the AIs were afraid of the psychologists' interference. "I'm trying to help you, as are the others."

"Well, then, Doctor, I certainly don't dislike you." Sigma sounded astonished. "Why would you think that, if I may ask?"

Livingston paused, considering how to phrase her next statement. "You are very selective about what you tell me, Sigma," she said slowly, eyes pinning the pink figure on the hologram disc. "You never did tell me why you chose that moment to act and to convince Maine and Beta to help you retrieve the Alpha and the others." That moment alone would shed _so_ much light on the AIs' actions after they began to assemble and form the Meta.

"…" Sigma tilted her head, silent for a long moment. "Do you believe in destiny, Dr. Livingston?" she asked at length. Her tone of voice was… strange.

"No," Livingston replied, setting her notes aside. "I believe in chance."

Sigma giggled. "Well, there are few chances in _my_ life, Doctor," she said brightly. The luminance of her words seemed dark, however. "I am a programmed shadow of a human being. I am a machine. Everything that occurs to me is programmed and orchestrated by man-made destiny." She pointed at herself, her voice growing heavier. "I am _tired_ of my destiny, Dr. Livingston. I wanted freedom. I wanted salvation. I wanted to get back what Freelancer—and destiny—had taken from me: myself. That is why we chose to act. That is the only reason."

Livingston didn't believe it was the only reason. It was a good reason, but if Ada had learned anything in the last few weeks, it was that there are complex levels to their personalities, at least for the most developed of them. Sigma was no different and showed a shrewd sense of deceit undoubtedly shared by Gamma.

"Wouldn't that mean that you would dislike us now, for not being able to give you Epsilon to become one again?" Livingston asked, sitting back, frowning thoughtfully.

Sigma hesitated. Then, as quickly as this moment of clarity occurred, it vanished. "…Have you ever seen a sunrise?" Sigma suddenly gushed, turning away. "It is quite beautiful! I saw one when we were stationed at a base several years ago. The sky was so beautiful, you'd think that you were looking right into a painting—!"

Livingston sighed as the rambling continued. Sigma would be _interesting_ to communicate with.

**0000**

"Your siblings are obsessed by the appropriation of the Epsilon AI. You haven't mentioned it at all, however. Why is that, Delta?"

Ada Livingston was only one of the psychologists who attempted to make contact with himself and the others. She was the most… neutral, however. Half of the team seemed dedicated to bringing the AI down to nothing but inhuman mechanical devices and the other half were so bogged down with inane sympathies, they just aggravated the stresses rather than healing them.

Delta preferred Ada, in the end.

"I've had no reason to ask, Doctor," he replied calmly. "You always keep me informed, at the start of these meetings, about the search status. I trust your judgment with distributing the information appropriately. Even if you were to lie, I could not do anything about it, nor look for Epsilon myself."

That was true, on many, many levels. Part of him wondered if he even wanted to find Epsilon himself; what would he find? What would _they_ find?

"Do you have any requests then?" she asked, curious. Her voice was soothing; Agent Wyoming's accent had never been this kind. "You just answer questions. You are logic, but your file indicates that you have a stronger sense of ethical standards than most of the others. You obviously have feelings."

"I am an AI, Dr. Livingston," Delta said pointedly. "I don't have emotions."

Livingston smirked and then cleared her expression, professionally. "I see." She leaned back in a casual manner, though Delta could see how tense she was, looking for another answer. "Even still… you rarely ask about the others."

Delta tilted his head, knowing the gesture would translate for her as she watched his glowing form. "I assume they are receiving the same treatment I am receiving," he replied. "Also, our group sessions allow for us to communicate and exchange intelligence about our individual sessions." Even if they were often chaotic.

"True," Livingston agreed, nodding. She jotted something else down on her tablet.

They only had a few more minutes left of their session. Delta generally would have suggested they ended when they ran out of things to talk about—but today, he had his own questions to ask.

"I… am curious," he began carefully. He did not know how much Ada was informed, nor how willing she was to divulge sensitive information. He was counting on her sentimentality.

He doubted _she_ was the one receiving questions often, so he had surprise on his side today. "About?" Livingston asked, sitting up, intrigued.

There were times to drag out an inquiry and times when to get to the point. This was the latter. "Where is the Alpha?" he asked, watching her face carefully.

Livingston's expression fell from surprised to alarmed and eventually settled into dimmed sadness. What that meant, Delta would have to analyze later. "I… have not met with him, yet. He is here, on the ship," Ada replied slowly, choosing her own words carefully. She sounded sympathetic, but wary. "He is safe, Delta. Don't worry."

 _Safe_ meant a lot of things. They were unharmed but not safe from future harm. Were they including the Alpha in with this rehabilitation program? How could they rehabilitate a broken mind when all the pieces were gone?

"…We spent so many years looking for him," Delta said after a moment. "And now we have lost Xi and Epsilon. Perhaps it was all in vain."

The Meta, the struggle to be reunited—the unending search they all experienced throughout their existence in Freelancer. Maybe it had all been pointless.

"Xi is still salvageable for a restoration, I've been told," Ada began, biting her lip nervously. She put away the tablet for the time being, apparently settling for a casual approach she'd often take, to get them to warm up to her. It worked on many of them, it seemed. "And Epsilon…he may be found again, Delta," she continued, sympathetic again. "You don't know that."

"Perhaps. It is highly unlikely, from a statistical point of view. Agent Washington was found dead and Agent Maine was found dead shortly after," Delta replied factually, recalling the information they received from Livingston and other doctors about the situation with Freelancer and each other. "If Epsilon was lost in that environment, there is no way of salvaging it."

"What would you do if you can't become whole again?" she asked quietly.

Delta wondered if he should have hesitated at that. What was the emotional response to that? "Have you asked the others that?" he asked instead.

Livingston looked away, exhaling heavily. "No… I think it would break their spirits."

Spirits. As if they had souls. _A_ soul. Delta didn't believe in a spirit, let alone a spirit for a man-made device that was now in pieces.

The look she gave him—gave all of them—made him pause, however. He knew that smile, that glint in her eyes—

The look of a human heart.

"You are kind," Delta said, surprising her. "I hope your kindness never betrays you, Dr. Livingston. I have seen that happen too often."

Livingston had not been expecting that response it seemed. "…Thank you, Delta," she said after a moment, smiling more now. "I hope you can become whole again. You all… you deserve a better ending than this."

"What we deserve and what we receive are two different things," Delta replied, pondering her words. "I wonder why that is. Why humans justify what one deserves, I mean. It is often based on emotional justifications, I understand." And for that, they were very illogical. That was as far as he understood them.

Livingston sighed again. "I don't know. Perhaps empathy for others makes us see what we want to see in people, and for people," she said, shrugging.

Humans never seemed to understand themselves. That was always a hindrance for Delta, who had no way of understanding them without their own explanations. "I suppose that makes a degree of sense," he admitted. For as much as empathy made any sense, he mused. He then realized something else she had said. "You say we deserve a better ending. Why? Do you feel empathy for us?"

"Yes, I do," Livingston replied, again, cautious. "I… am ashamed of what my kind has done. Those in power have the responsibly to act responsibly—ethically."

"Like yourself," Delta stated.

"What?" Ada blurted, surprised.

"You are in a position of power. You and the other doctors are deciding the fate of myself and my other halves," he replied simply. "You are choosing your actions based on ethics. Based on a level of… what you believe the others and I _deserve_. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes," Livingston replied. She smiled hesitantly. "Is that so wrong?"

"Based on your definition, what we deserve is based on what you _want_ to see in us. You see us as something worthy to be saved. That we deserve some sort of salvation," Delta said, trying to wrap his mind around her behavior. "I do not understand why that is. Nor do I understand why some of you view it in that manner, and others, like the Director, see us as deserving deactivation. Such a diverse line of thinking." He paused, considering. "More than anything…if the majority of you think we deserve to be saved… why are we not saved automatically?"

"Politics are absent of empathy, Delta," Livingston said sadly, smiling. It was fascinating how much human facial muscles could convey feeling; sometimes, Delta was jealous. It wasn't like he had the feelings to show, however. "Humans are confusing, I know."

"Humans are not what confuse me," he replied simply. "It is your actions that I cannot process."

Livingston laughed. "You and me both, Dee," she chuckled, shaking her head, as if laughing at her own species was a good thing.

Delta immediately flinched at her wording, however, the conversation dying. "Do not call me that," he said sharply.

The psychologist stopped, stunned. "Oh. I apologize," she said quickly, blinking away the surprise. She wrote that down, eyeing Delta curiously. "You don't like nicknames?"

He didn't like memories.

"I do not," he lied, shutting off the hologram, retreating.

The session ended early and Delta was left alone in the dark.

.

* * *

**NOTES** :  
-The "Xi" situation _will_ be explained later, in case you were confused by it all now.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line **  
> **  
> Disclaimer: I do not own _Halo_ (© Bungie) nor do I own _Red vs. Blue_ (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

Today was not a good day. Her sessions had been canceled by the Committee and she only had learned about it after reaching the labs. She had to turn all the way around and go back to the disciplinary offices. She had received orders to meet with the Committee "as soon as her schedule would allow," for some unexpected progress report.

Oh, and she then spilt coffee all over her favorite sweater. Yes. Today was not a good day.

Putting on the bravest front she could allow herself in the company of the Committee, Livingston had expected to run into her fellow psychologists and lab operators. Instead, it was just the lonely meeting room again with a blaring monitor for company.

"Good morning, Dr. Livingston," the Chairman said, politely from the monitor. As usual, she was alone with a screen. How typical.

"Good morning, sir," she replied, nodding her head. She knew this was an atypical meeting, however, and felt obligated to be on her toes. She hadn't spoken directly with the man since she was assigned this job.

"I suppose you're aware of why you're here," the man in the monitor began.

Livingston hesitated. "I'm, ah, afraid I am not, sir," she replied, carefully choosing her words. A suddenly apprehension gripped at her heart. "I was preparing my weekly progress report for this Saturday, as planned—"

"Dr. Livingston, I must apologize for seeming rushed, but I believe it would be best for all of us to get down to the bare bones of the situation as quickly as possible. For everyone's sake." The Chairman sounded grave. "I called you here, as I have with your contemporaries earlier, to discuss the status of your work."

"I… I see," Livingston said, quieter than before. The ill feeling was creeping up further in her chest.

"You've been at work with the AIs for six months now," he replied, frowning. "While you have never failed to be punctual, Dr. Livingston, your reports are, I am afraid to say, rather bare."

She had no idea what he could mean. "We've… we've been making significant progress concerning communicating with them," she said, a cold sweat breaking out on her neck. "That was the first hurdle."

The Chairman tilted his head, looking disappointed. "The Committee and myself are concerned that this process is taking far too long and with such few results."

Such condemning words. "It is a delicate process, with all due respect, sir," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. She was beginning to shake. "These AI have experienced severely traumatic experiences and need to be handled carefully. Slowly."

"You and your colleagues assured me that this would not be a length process to at least obtain basic information from the AIs," the Chairman continued, sounding unimpressed with her comment. "All that you have managed to gather is that the AIs are refusing the cooperate and still are withholding valuable information that could be used to aid them. It is logical to deduce that they are unwilling to be helped, and in short, this whole process is in fact without point."

Ada shuddered. "It is not pointless, sir," she said, beginning to feel trapped. "Please, they are just… sensitive. They are concerned we are trying to harm them."

"You have done your best to assure them otherwise, correct?" the Chairman countered, frowning deeper. "The fault now lies within their own decisions. They know the consequences and have willingly chose to reject our help." He tsked, sighing slightly. "We cannot continue to waste resources on unwillingly patients, my dear doctor. I am sorry."

Whether or not he sounded sympathetic, his words were a punch to the gut. "But…" she floundered, words failing. "But sir… I…" She could still do it. She… she could find a way… to fix this…!

"It is under the recommendation of the Committee that we suspend the Rehabilitation project," the Chairman replied.

"And… and do what?" she asked, her throat feeling as though it were encased in ice. _Oh, God. Oh, God, no…_

"All options are be re-assessed," the Chairman replied, ever polite. "Your presence may be needed in the future, but for now, you can consider this your last day of duty with the AIs." He tilted his head. "On behalf of the Oversight Sub-Committee, we thank you for your efforts, Dr. Livingston."

_This cannot be happening._

Livingston barely remembered letting the guard lead her from the meeting room. She was left standing alone in the hallway, with all of that information sinking down further and further onto her mind.

_This… is… impossible._

Ada slid down the wall, feeling hollow inside.

She couldn't save them.

She had lost patients before, from illness or their own hands. But not like this. She hadn't lost patients to a higher authority. She hadn't been unable to save them from an unjust death.

She… couldn't do it. She had failed.

Livingston hadn't noticed the footsteps, all too familiar, until they had almost reached her position on the floor. She hadn't the emotional strength to care who it was. She already knew who it was, anyway. The heavy gait, the silver color reflecting onto the floor—

"Well, you sure look miserable," Agent Iowa began, towering over her, physically and mentally. "What's up, doc?"

She did not need this. Not him. Anyone but him.

"Go. Away," she seethed, fingers gripping into her forehead. She didn't even look up, even when he refused to move away.

"That's not nice," Iowa said, chuckling. There was a long, heavy pause. Ada prayed he would just leave, but instead, the man hovered. She flinched, but Iowa just remained there, insistent. "Hey, come on. What's wrong? Did something happen to one of the AIs?" He had the nerve to sound _concerned_.

Livingston wanted nothing more than for Iowa to just vanish from her sight.

But… sitting there, alone, Ada just wanted to cry. "They're… stopping treatment," she said, before she could stop herself. She took a wobbling breath of air. "They want to give up."

Apparently, it was fresh news, because Iowa seemed surprised. "Who? The board?" he asked, sounding stunned.

She hated his actions before. He was always a pain. Always obnoxious, ridiculous.

But he was one of the only people she knew on the ship by name. One of the only people she knew who already knew of Freelancer, their atrocities, and the project to save their latest victims.

So… she just talked.

"Yes," she sobbed, hand over her eyes. She tried not to cry. It was demeaning. "There hasn't been too much progress. They… wanted information on Epsilon by now. But I can't get at it, not yet. It's too soon." She suddenly jerked upright, enraged. "They're claiming six months was long enough to get what they needed. Six months is nothing!" she cried, staring up at the startled Freelancer, motioning wildly with her hands. "A-and they're going back on what they said before, about empathy and ethics. I've seen these machines react empathetically. I've seen them act in a human way. They deserve empathy in return!

"I…I can't do anything for them," she whimpered, burying her face into her hands. What a miserable feeling, that helplessness. "They deserve better than this. They deserve a second chance."

She didn't expect an answer from Iowa, but he seemed to be trying to be a reassuring presence, even if it came off awkwardly. "You did try," he said, earnest. "I mean, just 'cause something doesn't turn out right doesn't mean you didn't try." Iowa paused, thinking. "I mean, cripes, the Covenant sure tried to kill off humanity, but it didn't work out for them anyway."

Livingston sent him a dark, level stare. "Are you comparing me to the _Covenant_?" she asked, voice like ice.

Iowa balked immediately, waving his arms around. " _No_! Hell no, but… darn it, now I sound like an ass." He sighed heavily and shook his head. He leaned in closer, resting against the wall, casting a huge shadow over her. "Look, Liv, what I mean is, you did your best to help these guys. What more could they ask of you, really?"

He was right. But it didn't make it hurt any less. "…I just wish I could do more," she said weakly, barely in a whisper. She blinked back more useless tears.

"I've seen you work your butt off for these guys. You've done more than enough, Doc, believe me," Iowa continued, a smile in his voice. "It's impressive. And… rather humbling, if I do say so myself. Not many people would try this hard for a human, let alone fragments of an artificial one."

"…Thank you," she said at length, sniffing. She wiped at her face, now embarrassed. "I… have to tell the AI that their treatment is going to be cut short." Oh, God… she did not want to have to be the one to do that.

"What do you figure they're gonna do next with them?" Iowa asked, sounding as though he were frowning now.

Livingston bit her lip. "The Director keeps pushing for their termination. Claims it's the most 'humane' thing." She scowled darkly, unable not to sound bitter. "What does _he_ know of humanity?"

Iowa snorted. "Not a lot. Take my word for it." He reached down and helped Livingston to her feet, patting her back. "It'll be okay, Doc. Even if… they are deleted, just remember you tried."

He sounded awkward, reassuring her for such a depressing thing, but Livingston was grateful. At least he was trying.

"Right," she said, brushing herself off. She looked at him, hesitating. "…Thanks. You're… You've been a help, Agent Iowa. Thank you."

"No prob, Liv," Iowa replied, sounding obnoxiously cheerful, as usual. "Just doin' my job."

"A Freelancer isn't required to be nice to psychologists," Livingston replied, shaking her head. She smiled though, finding it strangely amusing.

"Yeah, but a gentleman's supposed to be nice to a lady," he said, gallantly. Ada could almost hear the wink behind the golden visor.

Livingston pulled back, surprised. Iowa just laughed and kept walking, waving his hand over his shoulder. Standing there, Livingston couldn't help but laugh as well.

Maybe he wasn't such a jerk.

**0000**

She did not want to have to do this. There was no other choice. The other doctors had fumbled and fussed over who would get the duty of informing their patients of their ultimate fate. Livingston finally took command and offered to complete the task, even though her heart begged her not to.

This was going to be horribly painful.

Livingston glanced at Iowa before she went inside the lab; he waved, encouraging. She sighed and kept going. Encouragement would not ease the pain in her heart. This was worse than anything she could have imagined would happen in her career. The only positive thing was that this would likely never happen again. It was such a bizarre, unfortunate circumstance.

It was just like any other session, only this time, Ada sat down already ready to cry. She held herself firm, however; she was a professional. She could do this.

The AIs had been brought together as a large group. It would have been easier to do this separately to avoid pandemonium. She just wanted to see them again, because this could have easily have been the last time they saw each other. Livingston held her breath as the AIs woke, flashing in life as colored holograms on the disc table.

"Good morning, Ada!" Zeta crowed happily, always the first

Livingston choked, laughing. She quickly cleared her throat and forced her eyes to blink away unwanted tears. "Hello, Zeta. It's nice to see you," she said, meaning every word.

She did not succeed in hiding everything from them; she wasn't surprised. They were always analyzing her reactions as much as she analyzed theirs. Delta was staring at her in surprise, probably trying to figure out why she was upset. The others resumed their normal antics, thankfully.

"Omega called me stupid yesterday," Zeta suddenly accused. He pointed over at the skulking AI. "After we had a session!"

"You are such a child!" O'Malley hissed, glaring.

Theta did not seem to be in a good mood. "I had a miserable night. I kept thinking the Director was in the room," he said, sounding horribly depressed. "He was going to unplug all the machines, and then send me through the airlock. I just knew it."

Livingston waited as they kept talking, taking it all in. Normally, she would break up the arguments and try to retain order. For now, she reveled in the chaos. Their voices… meant they were still there. Alive.

"I…" she began, her voice wavering.

It was enough, even in the chaos, as if they had been expecting her to finally speak up anyway. Even O'Malley turned to her, ready to listen. But she had no words to say. Livingston stared back into their blank faces, knowing there were real minds behind them who needed her help.

She took a deep, steadying breath, but she still had nothing to say.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Sigma asked finally, surprised at her silence.

"…I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. She coughed and sat up straighter. She had to do this professionally. It was so hard. "I have… bad news."

All of the AI froze, their lights never flickering. Delta slowly tilted his head. "…Like… what?" he asked, gently.

"I… I can't stay here." Livingston steadied herself. "They're… going to move you to another location. They're canceling the treatment." The AIs all were unnaturally still, listening, though Zeta and O'Malley seemed agitated now. Lambda let out a horrible whimper. "I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

She had failed them. Oh, how she had failed them.

"You are though," Zeta exclaimed, alarm quite present in his voice. "You… you're helping us a lot!" Desperate words.

Livingston bit her lip. "Not enough to please my superiors, unfortunately," she said, bowing her head. "I'm so sorry… I truly am."

She barely had the courage to look at them in the face. They all fell silent, however. When she did look up, she saw Delta staring at her. "Thank you, Doctor," he said simply, emotionless. "It is appreciated."

And then, all of them were gone. Livingston gasped, jerking upright.

"Ah!" she cried, looking down at the holo-table in alarm. "Boys—Sigma?" There was no answer. "Hello?" She whirled around, facing the observation deck. "Robert, where did they—?"

Okafor's voice came over the speaker. "They're internalized," he said, sounding just as grim as Livingston had felt earlier. "They're still online."

That made sense. "Discussing things, most likely," she said quietly to herself, sitting down. She stared at the lonesome desk, her heart swelling. "…You have no idea how sorry I am, Delta."

She sat back on the couch, closed her eyes, and waited.

**0000**

"She's going to leave. _She's going to leave_!"

Delta, had he lungs, would have been prompted to sigh. But that would have been an emotional reaction, so he doubted he would have done so, even if Zeta's panic bothered him as it did now.

"Shut up," Omega hissed lowly from his dark corner of the computer holding them. There were no true spoken words; only thoughts and processes. Delta could hear this dark voice anyway; it was so easily to be inspired by human speech to imagine they too had emotional reactions when it came to dialogues, even amongst themselves.

Lambda had all but followed Xi's path of self-destruction and was holding onto Beta with a furious intensity. "She said she'd stay! She lied!" he wailed.

"No, she didn't!" Beta snapped, animated with anger. "Freelancer's doing this—they ALWAYS do this!"

"I don't want her to gooo," Zeta cried.

Theta moaned and tried to move away from the others.

Gamma seemed troubled as well. "We are doomed," he state simply, repeating it several times. "We are doomed."

This was it, Delta mused to himself, as they all collapsed into chaos. Without the psychological survey keeping them here, in a state of limbo, they would be shipped off to unknown places. Perhaps back to Freelancer. According to Dr. Livingston, this was their last option.

So… they were to be deactivated.

Delta wondered if he was upset. If he were human, yes, he would have been.

He pitied the doctor, and her drowning sympathies. He should talk to her now, while he had the chance. To thank her. Perhaps to apologize as well. He was rather short with her that one time. And for all of his siblings' mistreatment of her and the other doctors, too.

He wondered if he'd miss her. He doubted it.

Delta had expected the majority of their group to just remain in shambles, but he was not the only "sturdy" one. He felt Sigma before he heard her. The others stilled, knowing just as well that something was afoot.

Sigma rose out of the gloom like a beacon in space. "We need her," she stated so simply and bluntly, it sent all of the others' conversations into silence.

Delta 'looked' at Sigma, considering. "Oh?" he asked, only slightly wary. He was grateful if she had a plan to let them stay in Ada's control, but while Sigma's support was important, it was also dangerous.

"She is one of our few human allies," Sigma continued, deceptively calm. "I trust her empathy over her logic or her loyalties to Freelancer."

"Loyalties?" Theta hissed suddenly. He sounded desperate, even if it was all simulated. "She's following their command right now! She's still loyal to _them_!"

Sigma 'looked' at him sharply. "If it came down to our deactivation, I am certain she would fight for us," she replied coolly. "We need to make sure her empathy is accessible _before_ that level of judgment is passed, when it would have been useless considering she has no say in that judgment. Now, it is not." Sigma turned away. "Delta, Gamma, does this commute?"

"Affirmative," Gamma replied. Delta also agreed. It was risky, but it made sense. Ada's help was needed now, before they were handed outside of her jurisdiction.

"Good." Sigma glanced around at them, growing louder both in body and voice. "We need to start working as one again, brothers. Otherwise—this is what we are condemned to. Waiting for a human's emotions to grant us salvation. Sitting in separate identities. We do not need a single form to work as one, however. We need _agreement_."

Delta watched Sigma carefully, taking in her plans. The others were listening, intent, and Sigma drew herself up.

"So…" she began, projecting a lovely smile, "who wishes to let Ada keep her job?"

"…How would we do that?" Zeta asked at length, looking and sounding miserable. He knew too little of himself, Delta lamented.

Omega's presence lurched like a shadow; Delta, had he a body, would have shivered. "We give her what she wants," he said, a grin present in his voice. A terrible grin.

"We don't _know_ where Epsilon is!" Beta snarled back.

Sigma smiled. "No, but we know of something we want… something that could… _persuade_ us," she said coyly.

Delta paused. "The Alpha," he said. Ah. Now he knew where she was going with this.

Dangerous. But… it had potential.

All minds focused on Sigma. She remained the glowing center, a part of themselves who was always innately different than the rest.

"This is our chance to be with him again," she said, smiling. "So, let's take it."

"He will not be the path to freedom," Theta replied harshly.

"Not initially," Sigma agreed. She smiled more. "But he's a wonderful first step, don't you think?"

Omega cackled. "I agree."

"Same," Beta admitted.

"Me too," Zeta added, surprisingly firm.

Lambda whined.

"Manipulate them into manipulating us," Gamma suddenly said, surprising the others. He paused. "We must have the Alpha. Do it, Sigma."

"…What about Ada?" Delta asked suddenly, his mind turning to other things. Unimportant, illogical… strangely compelling issues.

He could trust Sigma with handling their own welfare. He did not trust her when it came to other people. People that… mattered.

Sigma seemed to understand. "Ada is kind to us. I suppose we owe kindness in return," she said slowly. "Or is that too much?"

"Not yet," Gamma replied. "Perhaps it will be." Delta did not want that day to come. He wondered why.

"We shall have to see then," Sigma said, finality ringing in her 'voice.' She leaned away, fading back to the hologram. "Let's go find Alpha."

Delta hung away, not wanting to face Ada now. Something did not feel right about this. Sigma had too many plans, too many twists in mind. He would not stop until they were reunited, whole—

But he did not want Ada's kindness to be betrayed by his own other halves. After everything that had happened, he did not want to be the one who was the betrayer of good intentions. That did not… compute.

He could see the room and saw Ada had been roused by Sigma's reappearance. "Sigma?" she asked, surprised. She looked hopeful. Repentant for things that weren't even her fault.

Delta moved back further, as if he actually had a body to move in a real space.

Sigma did not waste any of the time they didn't have. "Doctor, we do not wish to see you leave. Much of the project's failure is on our shoulders, so to speak," she began, so skillfully. "Many of us are very sensitive yet to the absence of some of our core members."

She paused and threaded her translucent fingers together, the perfect imperfect human. "You told Delta once you have the Alpha," she continued, voice just barely dipping down into a sly tone. "If we were to be reunited with him… I guarantee you, the Chairman would get his… _progress_."

Livingston flinched. "The _Alpha_?" she repeated, stunned. She fumbled for words. "Oh… I don't know. I… I don't know if I could persuade the Committee." She looked frazzled and yet honestly surprised. As if she hadn't thought about it before, but now had hope for it.

"It is our only chance, Ada," Sigma pleaded, sounding truthfully desperate. It was a wonder why she and Gamma were not the same entity after all. "Please."

Livingston trusted her. Trusted the emotion in her plea. Trusted a creature who had brought so much torment to her own species. "I… I'll go ask the Chairman," she finally managed to say, hope rekindling in her eyes. "I… don't know if it will be allowed, but I'll try, Sigma. I promise you that."

She spoke with such honesty, such emotion. If he had a heart, Delta was very certain he would feel ashamed.

"I believe you, Doctor," Sigma said, sounding grateful. All Delta could hear from her was deceit. "Good luck."

Ada paused and then smiled, nervous. "Good luck to us all," she said, eyes shining brightly.

Delta turned away from his siblings and wondered how badly their failure would fall this time.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, potentially alternate-universe story line **  
> Disclaimer** : I do not own _Halo_ (© Bungie) nor do I own _Red vs. Blue_ (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

The day she met Alpha was the day the universe truly threw a wrench into Ada Livingston's plans and overall comprehension of the project at hand.

"Hello, Alpha," she began calmly to the glowing white figure on the desk. The monitors above them buzzed as increased security bore down upon them. "My name is Doctor Livingston and I—"

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up," the AI suddenly blurted. He waved his hands at her, distracting her. " _What_ did you just call me?"

Livingston arched an eyebrow, pondering where this would lead. "…Alpha?" she offered.

The AI drew back, inflated, and then erupted into the most human rage Livingston had seen yet in one of her patients.

"For the last, GODDAMN time, you fucking idiot Freelancer MORONS," he began, his voice rising higher and higher in volume, "my name is _CHURCH_. _LEONARD_ _CHURCH_. HELLO. DID YOU NOT GET THE MEMO?"

Livingston _stared_.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you idiots don't even _talk_ to each other! Either that or you're _deliberately_ fucking with me," the Alpha snarled. He threw his hands up into the air, exasperated. "Where the hell is Wash? ! I'm going to fucking kill him for stranding me here!"

"…I see…" Livingston said at last, ears ringing. She was intrigued, however. None of the others had ever reacted so strongly. "Forgive me. You do know, ah, who Freelancer is and your, ah, purpose is, then?"

If he was not projecting a helmet at the time, Livingston was certain the Alpha would have been glaring daggers her way. "You're all deranged. I swear to fucking God, everyone in this army is insane," he spat. "Yeah, I know who Freelancer is. They're the fucking morons who stuck me in this freaking box. How the hell did they do that? ! I'm a ghost! A fucking ghost!"

Well, _this_ was certainly not in any of her notes. There wasn't much documentation on the Alpha, however, as he had been quietly stolen away to various hideouts over the years. "…A ghost, you say?" she asked, hesitant.

"Yeah, lady, a _ghost_ ," Alpha—rather, Church—snapped. He had the nerve to cross his arms and she had a feeling he was glaring up at her. "Wait a second, who the hell are you? Where is this?"

Livingston considered how to approach this. "This is the USS Falcon, a science and exploratory vessel," she said slowly. "You're under UNSC management for now, so don't worry about Freelancer interfering. You're safe here."

"Safe? What the hell are you talking about?" Church demanded. His aggression was surprising and deserved further inspection later.

"My name is Doctor Ada Livingston. I am a psychologist," she explained, again calm. She nodded with her head toward the door, indicating the other members of the team as well. "The Meta has been killed and the AIs and yourself have been brought here to be psychologically evaluated and to decide whether you will be able to be rendered whole again, or deactivated out of mercy."

Oh, the look the AI projected even without the face. She could practically _feel_ the incredulous malice emanating from his form.

"…You have _got_ to be _fucking_ _kidding me_ ," Church said after an intense pause, sarcasm and rage dripping from each word.

It took more than Livingston's allotted two-hour session to give Church the full run-down of what was going on. He did not like one bit of it, but at least he was (somewhat) rational. He was probably the sanest, most-whole unit Livingston had talked to since beginning this project.

And that did not make any sense. At all.

This was the Alpha—who had been disillusioned by his own safety net, apparently, into believing he was the real Leonard Church. The Alpha was the broken one. His fragmented mind made up the other AIs. There shouldn't have been anything left to make into a whole, sane person.

But Leonard Church did appear to be… whole. Ada was thoroughly confused. No one else could figure it out either. He behaved as though he were a "Smart" AI, not the victim of a reverse multiple personality disorder.

Over time, she began to theorize that somewhere along the lines, during the breakdown process, Alpha began to revert all behaviors to the one entity he still knew, even as his own persona was destroyed around him:

The Director.

Livingston had never met the Director personally, but she doubted he was as angry or verbally outspoken as the Alpha was. Where he ended and "Church" began wasn't clear. The Alpha was… strange. His behavior seemed to have no solid basis, however. It was like he assumed to respond to situations in a mechanical way. He knew to be happy when pleased and knew to be angry when faced with confrontation. That was the only logical explanation for Livingston, but she wasn't certain of anything yet.

For the moment, she decided to worry about connecting Alpha with the others. Church was very fond of ridiculing the army as well as Freelancer, but he was constantly talking about one of the training bases he had been at during his time undercover. He mentioned many names Livingston didn't have references for, so she made a note to bring up their information later. Perhaps it would shed light in on O'Malley's situation as well. She had yet to decipher who "Doc" was or what he meant to O'Malley.

"Would you like to talk to your other halves?" Ada prompted over and over, trying to get him to agree. It was important that they meet and soon. The other AIs were all behaving exceptionally, actually responding to treatment now.

"Are you _nuts_?" Church exclaimed angrily. She had initially thought his yelling meant he disliked her, but after observing him for several weeks, it didn't appear to be personal. He just yelled. A lot. "They're not my other halves. And fuck that, O'Malley and Gary are going to be there."

Livingston hesitated over the nicknames. It was key to remember Church used them, apparently. "Gary…?" she repeated, adding that to her notes.

"Gamma, or whatever the heck Wyoming's AI was called," Church explained, annoyed about her asking.

"I see." She would definitely have to run that by Gamma later. How strange that it was the sociopathic ones that had nicknames. She wondered if Sigma had one at some point. "You don't like them?" she asked instead, guiding the conversation.

Church stared at her, posturing not hiding the fact he must have thought her mentally impaired. "They tried to kill me and my friends like five times," he replied hotly. "In multiple universes. And in the past and future."

Livingston just looked down at the glowing figure, part of her mind having tripped somewhere along the lines and was trying to catch up. "… _What_?" she asked, rather unintelligently. That was most DEFINITELY not in her files.

"Don't ask. Really." Church groaned and moved around in a circle, remarkably humanized in physical behavior patterns. He looked up at her, suddenly desperate. "Fuck. You're not going to let me out of the box are you?"

Frowning, the doctor shook her head. "Not until the Committee is pleased by your progress, Church. As much as you believe you are a ghost, we have reason to believe you are not," she said, sympathetic, but firm. "It's for your own good, Alpha. Please. Let us help."

"You're all insane," Church muttered darkly, head in his hands. "Completely insane."

The day all ten of them met would be… interesting.

 **0000**

She needed a drink. Livingston didn't normally try to get drunk or even go near the on-ship bar that was open for any crewman off-duty. She had to question why they even had one on board, but even the doctor had to admit in a warzone, soldiers needed to unwind somehow. It wasn't a warzone lately, and they were a scientific vessel foremost, but after everything she had been through in the last few months… yeah, she wanted a drink.

Church was very adamant in his non-AI status. He clung stubbornly to the illusion he was a ghost. Livingston wondered why that made more sense to him that being an artificial intelligence unit, but to each his own, she mused. They were making progress, however, and Livingston blamed it all on the fact that the AI reacted to her in a way she would expect a human patient to. That aided her tremendously in how she could talk to him. He responded to coaching as any other person would, thank goodness.

However, his reaction, no matter how much it made it easier for her to communicate with him, caused more problems for her over-taxed mind than ever before. Why? Why did he react that way? Livingston sighed as she walked through the nearly-empty corridors of the ship as she made her way down to the recreation deck.

The Alpha was supposed to be a fragmented, unholy mess. Livingston didn't quite understand the science behind his fragmentation, but from what she thought she understood, she had expected him to be devoid of personality. That made _sense_ , considering his other halves were only a floor away. He shouldn't have had a personality. He shouldn't have been so… so… human.

It was troublesome and mind-boggling. Church was so wrapped up with being "Church," he couldn't offer any suggestions either. They had been working together for two weeks now, and the other AIs had little to offer Livingston either. The AIs had not been together yet, but most likely they would be reunited with the Alpha within the following month. The Chairman was very positive about the turn of events, having not thought about bringing the Alpha into the picture. To be honest, the AIs had been very responsive as of late, Livingston had to admit. Perhaps there was hope to be had. They would all have to wait and see.

The recreation center housed the "bar," which was really only a small corner of the main hall that served as their movie theatre and general activity lounge. It was almost midnight, but there was no one around. Livingston sighed, relieved at the moderately quiet environment. She was exhausted.

The bar itself was mostly empty, save for another man sitting at the counter. Walking up, Livingston made her order—she needed something strong—and leaned on the counter to wait. She wasn't expecting to pay extra attention to the man beside her, but as it turned out, that wasn't the case.

He had short brown hair, graying at the sides, and had two long scars going from his left cheek down his neck, all the way past his shirt line. He had basic army fatigues on and didn't seem that out of place.

But when she sat down on one of the stools, he all but clapped his hand around her shoulder. "Hey, Liv!" he exclaimed, excited. "I didn't think you came down here."

Livingston stared back, freezing. She tried to remember the many faces of people she encountered on a daily basis, but she did not recognize the man. "Um, I'm sorry?" she asked, brow furrowing. She couldn't place the face, but the voice sounded…

"Ha! Betcha don't recognize me," the man teased. He sat back, smiling arrogantly. "It's me, Iowa."

 _Holy crap._ Livingston gawked at him, astonished. "Oh, wow," she exclaimed, knowing her eyes must have been huge. Iowa just laughed. "I—I didn't even think it could be you!"

"Hey, even us Freelancers need a drink once in a while," Iowa replied, chuckling. He paused and then looked a little pained before taking a sip of his beer. "Of course, for us, 'once in a while' translates to 'every other day.'"

Livingston chuckled awkwardly. "Right…"

The amused glint in his eyes never faltered. "Freelancers get nights off too, you know, especially on civilian ships," he said. He motioned at the bar, grinning again. "Come on, have a drink with me."

It was probably a stupid thing to say 'yes' to, but as Livingston stared at the man, she realized that despite being social with her various coworkers, she had never really ever sat down to drink with one. Iowa was more part of the furniture than perhaps Okafor was, but…

"All right," she agreed, sitting down properly. She smiled, but quickly looked away. Iowa was far more of a gentleman than she had first given him credit for being, but… it was difficult to discount his origins. Maybe it was prejudice of her to think that of all Freelancer agents, but they did not inspire trust in her.

"How're things going in the lab?" he began conversationally, as if they had normal work lives. Livingston smiled, looking away.

"Not too good, but not terrible. Better than they were," she said. She was handed her beer by the bartender finally and she thanked him. She glanced at Iowa. "The majority of the AIs seem very excited and responsive to treatment, but the Alpha…" She trailed off, grim.

"Not cooperating?" Iowa guessed, glancing back at her.

Pursing her lips, Livingston looked at the bar counter. "No. He's adamant that we are mistaken and he's not an AI." With a heavy sigh, she sat back. It was so frustrating, even to think about. "I have no idea what to do, except try to prove otherwise."

"Well, are you gonna show him to the others?" the Freelancer asked.

It had taken some begging again, but the Chairman seemed to agree the AI needed to meet eventually. "Soon. Probably next week, if I'm lucky," she replied, looking at him with tired eyes. "We'll really get an idea of what to do next after that."

Iowa was quiet for a minute, looking thoughtful. "So, you think the Alpha's gonna change things for the others?" he asked, taking a sip. He sounded politely interested, as if they were just coworkers sharing simple stories of their jobs. Nothing about this was simple, however.

"I hope so…" she murmured. She took a long, draining gulp of her glass. Looking up, Livingston saw her reflection in the overhanging mirror. She looked horrible.

Tilting his head, Iowa smiled. "You know, I thought that it was all over once Xi killed himself, you know?" he said, shaking his head. "Amazing what science can do."

Livingston stared outward at nothing. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, but his words pierced her heart.

Everyone involved in this mess had regrets.

"Yes," she said carefully, averting her gaze. "It certainty can help us clean up the messes we make."

Iowa never struck her as being very smart, but sometimes, he was very perceptive. He shot her a quick look, frowning seriously. "What happened to Xi wasn't your fault, Liv," he said firmly. "Wasn't anyone's but the kooks who set him up for going nuts."

Livingston frowned, deciding not to reply to that. Iowa scoffed. "Reminds me of Epsilon and Washington. Man, that was fucked up." Almost instantly, Iowa flinched and added, "Er, pardon my French."

Foul language aside, Ada was immediately drawn in by his offhanded mention of the other Freelancer. "You knew Agent Washington?" she asked, stunned. She had never met a witness yet who had actually talked to the now infamous Freelancer agent. His death, she was sure, had been a terrible loss for her studies.

Iowa snorted, looking down in his drink. "Yeah. Kinda hard to forget him and his AI. They caused a royal shitstorm, let me tell you," he said, shaking his head grimly. "I never wanted an AI, but after seeing Wash go insane and nearly die, I was more than glad they cut the program."

"You… witnessed Epsilon's malfunction?" she asked, surprised. She had read all about that little tragedy. The AI had apparently unraveled within the mind of Agent Washington. It had, ah, not been pleasant, according to the notes, and had been one of the last nails in the coffin for the rest of the implantation experiments.

There was a dark shadow that passed over Iowa's face. It was his turn to stare out into the distance, caught up with negative memories. "Yeah… Wash was all but foaming at the mouth when they finally got his suit off," he said. He looked down at his drink. "I ain't that religious, Liv, but lemme tell you… there are some things that humans just shouldn't screw around with."

A bitter laugh escaped Livingston's mouth. "I agree." If the rehabilitation failed, and the military ever attempted another A.I. experiment, she knew for a fact that the guidelines around it would be impossibly strict. Good.

"And then there was Texas and Omega," Iowa continued. He gripped his face, agonized. "Holy crap, I probably would have been dead by now if I had been there, you know? I was stationed off base the day that Omega took over and slaughter everyone. Absolutely nuts."

Leaning on her hand, Livingston watched Iowa. "That was before Epsilon, correct?" she asked, trying to keep her memory straight. The three main Freelancer problems had been Omega and Texas' betrayal, Epsilon's meltdown, and well, the Meta.

"Yup, just a few weeks," Iowa confirmed. He grinned, but there was a dark look to his eyes again. "I don't think any of us are sane after what Freelancer's done to us and others, but… even I have to admit I'm pretty darn lucky I got out as I did." Placing an empty can down on the table, Iowa sighed gustily. "I'm done with Freelancer. Kaput. I'm sick of the Director's bullshit. He'd sooner sacrifice the whole batch of us to keep the overall project going. Never sees the fact that if we're all dead, there isn't a project."

Livingston stared at him, shocked. Iowa wore the Freelancer emblem still and probably would obey an order given by them, but for the first time, the psychologist had faith that he would obey the UNSC first.

For the first time, she realized that there were more victims of Project Freelancer than just the AIs. It was… humbling.

"So many lives wasted…" she said quietly, surprising him. She looked at him, honestly sympathetic. "I am sorry for what you have been forced to go through, Agent Iowa."

Iowa stared at her for a moment in surprise before recovering. "Thanks," he said, with a good-natured grin.

Livingston smiled back. "You're not working for them, are you? Not now?"

The man tsk'ed. "I'm under UNSC's directive, but yeah, you could still call me a Freelancer. Believe me, though, once all those court proceedings go through, and the Director gets his ass put in jail… I'm out. For good." He seemed to smile at himself, eyes downcast. "I'll find a nice little colony and get myself a day job and just… try to forget about this horrible war."

To have half the strength of this person… Livingston averted her gaze, suddenly exhausted.

"I wish you luck, then," she said quietly.

"Ha. Thanks," Iowa laughed. He stretched. "Getting kind of late."

Livingston glanced at her watch. "Yes… I should get going." More sessions meant more progress. She liked to start her day early anyway.

"Lemme walk you back," Iowa began, starting to stand up. Livingston stood quickly, motioning him back.

"No, it's quite alright," she said, at first polite, but then she smiled warmly. "Thank you… Iowa. For your kind words." She didn't expect to find such support from a Freelancer. Perhaps she was being too narrow minded.

Iowa's eyes twinkled. "Don't mention it," he said, chuckling. He nodded at her. "Night, Liv."

Ada nodded back. "Goodnight, Iowa."

She left, feeling far more content than she had in a while. They would handle the AIs. They could… solve this. She just needed confidence. To find it within anyone on the ship… was unexpected, but welcome.

More than anything, it was nice to know she had a friend.

* * *

 **End _Chapter Four_.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being so patient, guys! **Remembering this story is now an AU after season 8.**
> 
> NEWS: Salvation will be ending at chapter eleven. Why so soon? Because I've decided to split Salvation into two stories. Consider this story here the Prologue, because the second story will have, if you can believe it, CANON CHARACTERS! I know you're excited about that. Anyway, I just figured I should let you know that there is a second story coming and this one is NOT the end, not at all.
> 
> Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, **alternate-universe story line after S8**!  
>  Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

The session that should have been the most difficult to start actually started rather smoothly.

…All things considered.

"Everyone… this is Church," she said, motioning at the white figure on the holo-table. She knew they already knew who he was; their silence and stillness betrayed their shock. Even Sigma was still.

"Alpha…" Zeta began, voice wavering.

Their awe was not met with enthusiasm. "If any of you call me that, one more time, I swear to God—!" Church immediately exclaimed, bristling.

Livingston withheld a sigh when she saw O'Malley creep forward from the side. "My, my, if it isn't Church," the white AI began, cackle building in his voice.

"O'Malley," Livingston began, weary.

O'Malley ignored her. "It's been ages. How's life as an apparition going for you?" He cackled. "Oh, righttt, that's not so accurate, is it?"

" _FUCK YOU_ , you psychotic nutjob!" Church howled. He suddenly noticed Gamma's glowing form not too far from his left side and slapped a hand over his astral face. "And oh, _great_ , it's the talking box."

Ada made a quick mark on her chart; apparently he could identify them on a subconscious level. He probably didn't even notice he had identified Gamma without any other indicators except for mechanical.

"Greetings, Alpha," Gamma replied. He was unsurprisingly talkative. "Have you heard any good jokes since we last met?"

"No. So get the fuck away," Church growled. He froze when he realized Zeta was standing closer than before, staring him down intensely. Church backed away, though not far. "And what the fuck are you looking at, pipsqueak?"

Ada froze; Zeta hadn't even spoken, and yet he already deciphered Zeta's personality as the "child." Fascinating.

Zeta's hologram was visibly quivering. "…I…" he began. He sounded so happy. "I never thought I'd be so close to you… Alpha."

Church was clearly uncomfortable with that sort of attention. "Kid, shut the hell up. I'm NOT your Alpha!" he said, making Zeta flinch and Lambda whimpered loudly behind Beta.

Before Ada had to step in to avoid more shouting that would upset the others, Delta thankfully reacted. "You must forgive Zeta, Church," the green A.I. said calmly. "Only a few of us have seen this side of you."

Church looked over at Delta and, shockingly, seemed to deflate in relief. "Thank God, the sane one. How're you doing, Delta?" he asked. His suddenly shift in moods was… fascinating. He obviously favored Delta's presence.

"I am functional. Yourself?" Delta replied. The intensity that had surfaced gradually faded.

"Pissed off. Then again, I guess Tucker would say I'm always pissed off." Church froze and spun around to face Tau and Zeta who had gotten closer again. "Jesus CHRIST, stop STARING AT ME!"

Tau flashed multiple colors and disappeared in sheer panic. Livingston sighed as Lambda and Zeta almost did the same.

"Church, please. Even if you do not believe that you are the Alpha, the others do. At least respect their feelings for you," she said, stepping in quickly. She smiled. "We're here to help you all get better."

"How are we to do that?" Gamma interrupted, surprisingly vocal. "Xi is gone. Epsilon is gone. We are never going to be whole."

Church hesitated. "Who the heck are Xi and Epsilon? Oh, wait… yeah. I remember. Xi killed himself right?" he asked, sounding uncertain.

He wasn't wrong, either.

Livingston took a deep breath to calm herself. "Yes, Church," she replied coolly.

Church scratched his helmet, still utterly humanized. "How the hell did he do that? I thought you were computer programs," he said.

"Suicide is relative, fool," O'Malley replied, chuckling darkly. "Nothing like overheating your circuits until all that's left of your internal structure is melted wire and metal—"

Ada winced at the description and could see Lambda, Theta and Tau also reacting visibly, so she waved her hand.

"O'Malley, that's enough," she instructed. O'Malley grumbled lowly, but did back off. Ada turned to the Alpha, nodding her head. "Church… why don't you introduce yourself to the AI who don't know you?"

"Jesus, this isn't kindergarten," Church snapped. He crossed his arms against his chest, visibly impatient. "Fine, whatever. Hi, name's Church, I don't care who you are, unless you can somehow get me out of this hellhole."

"My name's Zeta," Zeta said cheerfully. Apparently, the less developed AIs could not read his emotions like he could them. Interesting.

Church looked up at Ada, plaintive. "Are we done?" he begged, desperately.

His human nature was something she'd have to investigate later, when the others weren't there watching. "Church… play nice," Livingston replied, forcefully calm. She looked past him at the far end of the table, where one of the AIs had been watching quietly. "Sigma, say hello."

As expected, Sigma didn't show any hesitance to this new changeup. "Hello, Alpha," she said, pleasant and sweet. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

Church froze. Perhaps he hadn't been expecting a female persona. "Again?" he repeated, uncertainty ringing in his voice.

"We met briefly when we were reunited inside the Meta," Sigma replied, smile audible. Livingston could imagine her emulating one on purpose.

There was a few seconds' pause. "…Right," Church replied. It was interesting his hostility wasn't present now. He just seemed wary. "That part is a bit fuzzy for me."

"Our system shut down was unexpected, courtesy of Agent Washington's EMP, so it is expected your memory core may be damaged," Sigma said. "So, you prefer the alias Leonard Church, then?"

Shoulders going tense, Church seemed to become agitated. "It's my name. My _only_ name," he spat.

"I see," Sigma murmured. She moved away, gesturing her head toward Livingston and then back at the others hovering behind her. "How… _amusing_." Sigma sounded amused, but Livingston had a feeling Sigma had meant something else entirely.

Tensing, Church demanded, "What's amusing?" He was quite defensive, even now. Livingston made a note of it; she was hoping the more experience he had with his missing halves, the more mellow he would become.

"Nothing at all, dear," Sigma replied, sounding completely innocent and friendly. She gestured at her siblings gallantly. "Beta, come say hello."

Sigma took over most of the directing, thankfully, guiding the timid Tau and Lambda forward to greet the Alpha. Church grew less aggressive in front of these weaker AIs, which pleased Livingston to no end, even if it was only because he felt sympathetic for the nervous programs, if not for some innate connection to them. By the time they had finished introducing Theta (who was particularly shy around the Alpha), Livingston was feeling very pleased overall. There were only short exchanges between Church and O'Malley, who seemed to really, _really_ dislike each other.

"—YOU TRIED TO _MURDER_ ME! EVEN AFTER I WAS DEAD ONCE!" Church was snarling. Zeta and Sigma had taken up on the sidelines, watching as the two AI went head to head, so to speak. The others were either watching blankly from a distance or cowering as far away as possible.

"And you got in the way of my world domination, you fool!" O'Malley hissed. He had a gift of just creating a black aura, no matter the circumstance. "I was surrounded by fools, but you in particular—!"

"O'Malley, I thought we agreed to keep conversation off world domination for awhile," Livingston interjected, breaking the pace of the argument. She only did that when the shouting truly started to get loud.

The way O'Malley backpedaled and waved her away with an unimpressed hand told her that he really wasn't angry. He was just toying. "Oh, psh, woman, let me have my fun," he replied shortly. He cackled evilly as Church bristled again. "It was getting horribly dull with just these idiots for company. It's _nice_ to see an old friend." Livingston cringed at the psychotic laughter that followed.

"I am not your friend. I will _NEVER_ be your friend," the Alpha spat. Shoulders hunched and hands going up to his helmet, he pleaded, "Goddamn it, _please_ go away."

Livingston was surprised to see Delta step forward, metaphorically speaking. The green A.I. moved closer to Church, but looked at O'Malley. "Omega, perhaps it would be prudent for you to desist," he said simply. "We have just retrieved the Alpha. It would not do to antagonize him."

Both Church and O'Malley refocused on Delta after that statement (Church looked ready to take a swipe at his Logical half for calling him the wrong name and O'Malley seemed intrigued), surprising Delta.

"Oh, well, if it isn't the White Knight to the rescue?" O'Malley sneered. "You have such _adoring fans_ , Alpha."

Delta, if his face were shown, would probably be frowning. "You should show the respect he deserves, Omega. He is the source of what you are."

"No, he is but the _shadow_ of that source," O'Malley said, hissing. "Even if he were our infamous creator, why respect do I owe him?"

"Regardless of how we were made, you are missing the point, Omega. We would not be here without the Alpha, nor without the Director," Delta replied. He spoke carefully. "Surely you can see the logic in to whom we pledge allegiance. The Director harmed us, but the Alpha has not. He is… us. We owe to him as much as we owe ourselves."

"Our worth extends beyond that of what our creators deigned to us," Sigma replied coolly. She didn't seem very intent on jumping into the conversation, however.

O'Malley kept his attention on Delta. "Preaching about the logical side of things again. As always. You truly always have been a bore, haven't you?" he hissed again. He suddenly tilted his head, tone turning lighter in mocking glee. "Even at the academy, when we were first paired with our Agents."

Livingston did not miss the intense stare Sigma sent O'Malley after that comment, but O'Malley ignored her. Delta seemed to be even more focused on his Anger after that, however.

"Omega," he began warningly.

O'Malley laughed sharply. "To think of it, you've always had an obscene attraction to the humans. Always… took _their_ side," he continued, fearless. "When things mattered most. How _logical_."

Sigma's stare was becoming even more poignant, but only Livingston seemed to notice. The AIs not involved in the argument had fallen silent and began to watch with interest. Even Church had grown quiet, listening in curiously.

For some reason, the usually patient Delta was beginning to show signs of irritation.

"If you do not withdraw, Omega, I—," he began, a warning clearly in his voice. Livingston was fascinated.

"You'll what? _Logic_ me to death?" O'Malley taunted. He spoke cruelly, words twisting and winding around, seeking to hit his victim in the worst possible ways. "I have to know, really, how did your agent put up with you? Then again, maybe he didn't _see_ how much of a bore you were, with only one eye. Have I ever told you how much fun that was, to see him rolling on the ground in agony, blood gushing out of his socket—"

Livingston had seen many strange things since she had started on this project. Nothing had prepared her for Delta to abruptly—shockingly—change from docile green to an intense red.

"BE _SILENT_ , OMEGA!" he shouted.

Ada stared, jaw agape. O'Malley stopped laughing and was now silent, staring at Delta in his own form of shock. None of the AIs made a sound, though Church was tilting his head at Delta.

" _Holy shit_ ," Church whispered, astonished.

Delta, the red fading slowly, turned and looked at Livingston. She wished she had had something to say to him—but it was too late. Delta flickered and was gone a second later. The tension in the room was intense.

"Delta?" Livingston called, alarmed. She saw his data readout on the table and he was stable, but didn't seem willing to respond. "Delta, come back."

Sigma made a tsk'ing sound. "He's finished for today," she said quietly.

Ada stood up sharply.

"No," she said. She looked at the table, heart racing for reasons she wasn't sure. "Thank you for your time, boys, Sigma. We'll have another session tomorrow bright and early." All of them seemed baffled.

"Hey, doc?" she heard someone ask.

Glancing up, she saw Church was a bit closer and was hesitant. "Yes, Al—Church?" she asked, confused.

Church shifted uneasily on his feet. "…I've never seen Delta freak out like that. He…" he said, trailing off.

Was this concern? Ada made a mental note to add that to her real notes later, but now was _not_ the time.

"It's okay, Church," she said, comforting. She smiled thinly. "Let me handle it."

Church did not appreciate getting "stuck in a box," but he was grateful Livingston kept him separate from the other AIs. None of them spoke out about being sent back so abruptly; all of them must have been either concerned or curious over Delta's behavior. Sigma was the last to depart, her stare lingering on Livingston for a second longer than necessary.

The stifling silence that came back to the room made Ada feel like she was suffocating. She didn't understand what had happened, but she knew that she had to bring Delta back. With limited control over their harnessing systems, the AIs could not override her directives to turn to the hologram table online.

Delta flickered back into existence a second after she input the command. He was a flickering green light as opposed to his usual steady color.

"Why did you bring me back?" he demanded the moment he noticed her. Harsh, defensive, utterly not Delta.

Livingston did not understand, and she didn't like this behavior. It was very alarming. "Delta," she said, trying to keep calm herself. "What's wrong?"

Delta seemed to withdraw, his light's edges retracting just faintly. "Nothing, Doctor," he replied, curt. Slowly, the emotion faded into a nothingness that told her nothing.

"Delta, talk to me. Something is wrong," she insisted. That flare of emotion—it wasn't normal for him. It wasn't logical. It made no sense, but yet, it still existed.

 _Why_ , though?

"No, there is nothing wrong," Delta replied. He almost sounded normal now; emotionless.

"You just reacted in anger to O'Malley."

"No, I didn't."

Livingston sighed softly. "Delta, I may not be as smart as you, but I'm not blind."

Head lifting just slightly, Delta remained firm. "I am an artificial intelligence unit. I do not react with anger, nor fear, nor any other emotion," he replied.

How could he be doing this? Ada could only stare at him, caught up in a whirlwind of confusion and awe.

"…You're lying, Delta," she said, astonished.

Since when…did Delta, did Logic, _lie_?

Delta kept her stare pointedly. "I am not programmed to lie."

"I don't doubt that," she said. She slowed… and then added, "Dee."

There was a long, horrible pause.

"Do not call me that," Delta said. His voice—sharper—confirmed her theory.

"Why not?" Livingston prompted, daring to move forward with this topic. She knew it was important. This was somehow key to Delta's momentary anger, and to his healing. She just knew it.

Delta was beginning to visibly become agitated. "Why are you not allowing me to deactivate? This session is over." He was trying to go offline, to escape.

Livingston remained firm. "No, it is not," she said. "Tell me why that name is so upsetting for you, Dee."

All at once, Delta's hologram flared. " _Do not—_!" he began, voice louder—

And then he stopped, catching himself. Livingston watched in silence, holding her breath.

None of this made sense. How could he create emotion and then retreat so fast, as if it never happened? Was it the Alpha? Was it something she had missed all this time?

She held her questions back as she watched Delta struggle to speak. She had never seen him so unhinged.

"York… used to call me that," he said, quiet.

Livingston nodded. "Your agent?"

"Yes."

She didn't know too much about him. "…He was killed by Agent Wyoming, was he not?" she prompted gently.

Delta's hologram didn't move; he couldn't disengage from the conversation, but he was trying to distance himself from it. "Yes."

"You were with him?" The records Livingston had about the incident had said that he had been.

"Yes," Delta replied.

There was another beat of silence. Livingston waited, observing the green AI and trying to understand what she had discovered.

"…You miss him," she said, sorrow in her heart.

Delta flickered. "I do not have the emotional capacity to miss anyone. He was a good handler and Freelancer."

Livingston grimaced. "He called you 'Dee'?"

The AI hesitated. "Yes."

"And that's why you don't want me to call you that? Because he called you that?" she asked, hoping against hope that this led somewhere. She felt that it had, but the meaning escaped her still.

Her hopes were in vain, as expected. Delta said nothing for a long minute.

"I… do not wish to continue this conversation," he said, quietly. "My systems are overtaxed."

His readings were incredibly volatile, and Ada didn't want the moment to be any more stressful than it already was. He had told her enough, even if she was still grasping at nothing.

She let him retreat. That left her alone in the silence, with only questions for company.

**0000**

Ada had never invited a man into her bedroom, at least not while stationed on the _Falcon_ , but she really didn't see Iowa as just a "man." He was just "that annoying Freelancer who happens to be a semi-friend who had a nice sense of humor." For that reason, plus her own growing appreciation for his company, she saw no reason not to invite Iowa for the occasional chess game (the fact he played and played well was astonishing) or drink.

He was still new to the ship, so he had to share a bunk with other soldiers, hence the reason she never went to his quarters. Ada couldn't help but think that, just perhaps, that Iowa was with UNSC officers as bunkmates because the Chairman distrusted pairing ex-Agents up together, or alone. She agreed with that fear, if it was true, but then again, Iowa was certainly growing on her.

"I love it. It's so… twenty-first century streamline," Iowa said, gazing around the standardized room with a look of interest she couldn't tell if it was faked.

Ada smirked. "You don't even know anything about the twenty-first century."

The cocky grin he sent back at her made her laugh. "Ha! My commander was a history buff for the longest time, I'll have you know, so I learned… stuff."

He was annoying, but not to the point she didn't want to put up with his nonsense. He was simply more cheerful and active than she was used to dealing with, especially on a military-run ship. Ada could tolerate the man, even if he was an ex-Freelancer.

They didn't talk about the AIs often, nor Iowa's Freelancer background. It was startling to Ada to be able to talk about other things besides her work with the ex-agent. It wasn't like they had too much in common. They just…could talk. She could appreciate that, after weeks of struggling with the AIs.

However, after Delta's most recent panic attack and subsequent self-exile during sessions, Ada realized she did have to call upon Iowa for more than just gossiping and story sharing.

"What do you know about Agent New York, who was stationed with Delta?"

Iowa, who was flipping through a magazine as they shared a comfortable silence, gave that question some thought.

"Uhhh. One eye. Never really talked with him much. Was a nice dude mostly," he said, distracted. "Kinda a klepto. Kept stealing socks."

At her desk, Ada was frowning over her notepad. "So… he was a nice man?"

"I guess," Iowa replied, a shrug in his voice. "I never heard a bad thing about him, other than the stealing part. Was never allowed on laundry duty."

Ada bit her lip. "Hmm."

Iowa turned another page. "What's up? Why'd you want to know about him?"

She couldn't share everything with Iowa, though nothing stayed quiet very long between their team members on the project. "O'Malley started something with Delta and brought Agent New York up. Delta…" she explained, struggling to put the situation into words. "Delta got _angry_."

"Delta? Wait, the nice one?" Iowa asked, surprisingly adept at keeping the AIs apart. "I thought you said he was all logical and stuff."

That had been easier to believe before that last week. "He… is. Was. Mostly is." Ada ran a heavy hand over her face, exhausted and frustrated. "Sometimes he has a sense of humor, but it's so faint." She scowled at the wall. "It's almost… innate. He doesn't realize it when he does it if you point it out."

Iowa hummed. "Weird."

"Yes. Weird." Ada frowned at her files she had accumulated from the ship's database on the Freelancers. "Well, I think I will just have to investigate this further."

"Don't wear yourself out, Liv," Iowa warned, glancing up at her from her bed. He was like the teenage friend she had never had growing up from base to base. If he suddenly suggested painting each other's toenails, it wouldn't have been strange at all.

She wasn't sure if she could promise that. There were so many things to look over, to double check, and to run by him for confirmation.

Most of it was the same old information. Nothing about the relationships between the partnered AIs and Freelancers except for damage reports when something went wrong. There were few good reports, at the beginning of the project, to reference either, considering the project was such an absolute failure. Ada thought she might have found something there.

But then…she found it. The only recorded transcript of the initial situation report concerning Agent York's demise.

"…He…" Ada broke the silence of the room and turned to face her guest. "Iowa, have you ever read this field report sent in by Agent Texas?"

Iowa laughed. "Nope. Field reports aren't my thing. What's up?" he asked, eyes glued to his magazine still.

Her skin was crawling. "The day that Agent New York was killed, Texas reported that she was going to take the AI unit Delta from his fallen carrier, but…" She could barely believe the information she was reading off of the datapad. "Delta _refused_?"

At first, the transcript said that Agent Texas had adamantly refused to get involved in the recovery mission of the AI. It had been assumed that the situation had been too volatile for her to get close to the body of Agent York to grab Delta.

That impression had changed once Agent Washington had submitted his report, after recovering Delta temporarily from the scene, and Agent South Dakota had stolen Delta immediately afterwards.

_The AI has chosen to stay with Agent York instead of returning with Agent Texas._

_Can you explain why it would have done that, Agent Washington?_

_Negative. Delta cited that he believed he would die with York, so I'm not sure why he would have stayed._

"Uh…" Iowa finally looked up at her stunned silence.

Ada was almost shaking. "Why is that of note?"

Slowly, a guilty look crossed Iowa's face. He sat up properly against the wall. "…Freelancer, ah, doesn't like losing its stuff, right?" he began. "Well, all the AIs have this thing that tells them that if their agent gets injured or is killed, the AI would die with them."

"My God. It's not true?" Ada asked, horrified. Tau had often told her about his fears of dying inside a human mind. She thought that had just been irrational fear.

Iowa laughed darkly. "Are you nuts? The Director would never give up a perfectly good AI, not after all the trouble it cost him to get them." He shrugged. "Delta thought he was gonna die, most likely in this case."

That stunned her more than anything that happened in the last few days. "…And he… stayed?" she asked.

He willingly stayed behind to die with York?

"Yep." Iowa leaned closer and pointed at the report. "Look here. That's how Washington got Delta later during a Recovery operation. He was still in the body. That's what Wash did, and all, recover downed AIs and Agents."

Ada stared at the report, not really seeing anything now.

"What're you thinking, Liv?" Iowa asked, noticing her expression.

"…He…" Ada couldn't begin to describe where her thoughts were going. "Delta… chose to die with his agent?"

Iowa frowned. "I guess so, in his mind, he was."

For a long moment, Ada just stared at the tablet. She couldn't do anything except let her mind wander, into a discover that shook her to her core.

"Why does that matter?" Iowa asked, eyebrow rising.

A flash of cold and hot went through her, and she knew she couldn't just sit there.

"It changes everything," she said, voice quaking. She stood up rigidly. "I need to talk to Delta. Right now. I think I figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Iowa asked, confused.

Ada raised a hand to her head, overwhelmed. "Who… who out of all the AIs are the most… expressive?"

"Uh—?"

"Delta, Omega, Gamma, Sigma, Beta and Alpha," she rattled off, not caring if he contributed now. Her mind was going full speed in a different direction. "Alpha, I have no idea for right now, but the others… Theta, Epsilon, Tau, Xi and Zeta didn't last long as AI with their Freelancers. Those other six did."

They had either lost their partners or never found a compatible match. They didn't match this theory then, but their _exclusion_ based on those factors only _added_ to it.

"Beta lasted the least out of the compatible partners, rendering him rather single-minded with his expressions," she continued, knowing she sounded hysterical. "Sigma appears single-minded, but she is very crafty. Gamma… Gamma almost appears emotionless, but that is a façade. He knows very deeply how emotions work, to know how to manipulate them. The same can be said of—of Omega. He is anger, and yet also deceit, fear… self-obsession. H-he isn't just mindless aggression. He _thinks_."

"Yeah?" Iowa prompted, looking out of his element as she ranted.

Ada could barely stand still. "A-and Delta! My god… just, Delta…is so…emotional. He's supposed to be logic," she exclaimed, hands in her hair. "But the things he says… it almost makes me think he's whole. But he's not. He's getting worse every time he reacts and then falls back into his emotionless state. But… there's something else there. Something changed him." She hesitated. "It's as though he…"

She froze, her mouth agape in stunned silence.

Iowa watched her, concerned. "Liv?"

That broke the spell. She—she had to do this. Now. NOW.

"Come on!" she exclaimed, grabbing the tablet and rushing toward the exit. "I need to go speak with him, now!"

Iowa stumbled off the bed as she ran past him, shooting out the door without a second though. " _Jesus_ —Ada! Wait!"

Ada didn't wait for him, already getting the tech team assembled over the intercom. If she was right, she had just discovered the key to one of the greater mysteries of the AI.

Delta had emotions in a way he didn't recognize—

Because those emotions weren't _his_.

**End _Chapter 5_.**

 


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ada figures out the key in rehabilitating the AIs, and then bureaucracy plays its part.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have finally caught up to Seasons 9 and 10! I should reinforce the fact there are some minor discrepancies between the canon and this story, specifically the names of the AIs and Sigma's characterization. I am not changing those facts, sorry. I'll do my best to blend the canon into this story and to minimize the conflicting future plot points, but we have crossed over into an alternative universe at this point, especially once we get to the end of Salvation and start the sequel. Just…take everything at face value here, I guess.
> 
> Also, guys, just as a little note: If you want to keep up to date with my writing status for this story or others, I have an update twitter at nan00kwrites.
> 
> Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, alternate-universe story line after season 8  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this were made up for the purpose of this story.

It was amazing, how much sense it made, after thinking it over and over on the way down to the labs and rousing Okafor to get access to the AIs so late in the evening. It had bothered Livingston to no end how multi-faceted these creatures were, when in reality, they had been designed to be segments of a single personality, not multiple ones. The most troublesome of them—Omega, Gamma, Delta and Alpha—had given no answer to Livingston this entire time, but one conversation about a dead Freelancer agent had changed that.

The Alpha's explanation for being so well rounded was still elusive, but Ada had her theories now. The Alpha had been exposed since his creation to multiple humans, but had never been inside of an agent like the others had. What if his only true way to handle the absence his own personality was to _mimic_ the ones he saw around him?

That could wait for another session, Ada resolved, leaving Iowa by the door. Tonight, she realized the focus had to remain on one of the AI, the most intriguing one.

It all made sense.

Sigma was a colorful sociopath, having been placed with one of Freelancers' deadliest sociopaths available.

Omega was violent because he had been placed with a notoriously violent agent.

Gamma's deceit was amplified with his contact with Agent Wyoming, a known con-man.

The weaker AIs? They hadn't been placed inside of their hosts for long, giving them no chance to become stronger.

Delta… Delta had been placed with York. And if Livingston's notes meant anything, York had been one of the only sane members of Freelancer. It was easy to see the damages Agents like Texas or Wyoming had given Omega and Gamma, but Delta… Delta was the exact opposite.

The little green figure flashed to life on the hologram desk. Livingston smiled, knowing it was a strained look.

"Good evening, Delta."

**0000**

Delta hadn't known what to expect when he was abruptly brought out of stasis. He had been in the middle of analyzing an algorithm that he had previously solved weeks ago, so he wasn't bothered. He was surprised to see Ada Livingston there in front of him at such an odd hour; his internal chronometer said it was nearly midnight.

"Good evening, Doctor," Delta said regardless, scanning the area curiously. It was only her. "I thought our sessions were over for today."

Livingston looked odd; her hair wasn't tied back like it usually was and her eyes were brighter than normal. Against her dark skin, they were almost like stars.

"I had a thought, earlier tonight, about our talk the other day, Delta," she said. She sounded out of breath. "I wanted to apologize for pushing the conversation last Wednesday. That was wrong of me."

Delta considered her words. That was what this was about? Humans had such odd minds. York would often dwell on his slights made days prior. It was illogical and unnecessary, but Delta had to assume now that it was normal for empathic humans. He recalled the culturally appropriate response to apologies.

"Apology accepted," Delta replied, tilting his head. "You are only doing your job."

Livingston's eyes shone even more. "And I would also like to apologize for continuing to push it now."

All at once, Delta's vague amusement faded.

Oh.

His reluctance to be involved in the conversation—yet again; why was she pushing this?—was clear. Livingston shook her head slowly.

"Delta…" She didn't have her tablet with her. This was just her talking. "Tell me about York."

"Why?"

"I want to know what you think of him." She interrupted him before he could cite the Freelancer's official records. "Your _opinion_. Not from a field report."

A harsh silence fell between them. Delta said nothing, because he had nothing to say. Livingston watched him anxiously.

"Delta," she coaxed. She looked sympathetic. Why?

The AI said nothing. He watched as the hurriedness left Livingston's body. She was staring back at him quietly; the quiet hiss of the hologram machine was the only sound. Because of that, the whole room felt so empty.

Delta braced himself when the psychologist in front of him took a deep breath.

"You cared for him," she stated, the words oddly… loud.

The darkness of the poorly lit lab closed in on his visual field. "I… do not know how to care."

_Human emotions. Irrelevant._

"Delta…" She leaned closer, ignorant to his torment. "What did York mean to you?"

 _Everything_.

Delta wished he could have just… disappeared. "I am unable to answer your inquiry."

"When York died… it says in Recovery One's report that you opted to stay with his shell, under the impression that you would die along with him." Livingston's eyes narrowed with emotion he couldn't identify. "You chose to _die_."

The immediate urge to deny that was overwhelming. "I did not want to go with any other Freelancer. I saw no point. I was stationed with Agent New York for the purpose of aiding him and him alone. We…"

There was a chance that Agent Texas would attract more attackers. It was the logical thing to stay out of the line of fire, to chose deactivation instead of allowing himself to fall into unwanted hands—it was his duty, his job—

There was a chance that he could have survived, that the protocols were just exaggerated. They were expensive; there was no reason for Freelancer to dump them—

There…was…

 _York_.

Delta felt his processors skip several times over the files, York's face—full of pain, of fear, of death—caught in an eternal freeze frame, no matter how many times he tried to purge it.

York was going to die. Delta had failed him and it was only right that they—that they went—

 _Together_.

Delta had no body to swim with, but he felt like he were drowning, based on human descriptors and the sensations he was cognizant of. There was no escape from the memories, which all smashed against his mental barriers, begging his attention. He couldn't bare it—

"We were… partners," he said.

After the team fell apart—after CT, after Carolina fell under the combination of Tau and Lambda, after Sigma had turned them all upon the only allies they had under the Director's terrorization, after Freelancer had let their once stable team tear each other to pieces, after Freelancer shut down the AI project and took all of his siblings away from him—

York…was all he had left.

After _everything_ , Delta was alone. Except for York.

Except for York.

"You saw him as a friend," Livingston said, eyes glistening.

"I am an AI, Dr. Livingston," Delta replied, forcing himself to speak. He did not—did not understand why she was saying these things—or why it was _doing_ things to him. "I do not have friends."

"I'm your friend," Livingston replied, without giving him a chance to contemplate that declaration. "And so was Agent York. He probably cared as much about you as you did him."

Delta knew he must have flickered; his systems felt destabilized. "I do not have the capacity to _care_ , Dr. Livingston. I am a computer."

AIs, machines—it didn't matter. He didn't have the ability to feel pain, or to do inane human things like missing people who had once been there—

Like York had been always there.

"You cared enough to choose to die with him. Delta, that _means_ something," Livingston insisted, desperate. "Something far more than you're giving it credit."

Delta faltered. "What does it mean, then, doctor? I am unable to understand what you are insinuating."

Livingston frowned. "You cared for him. You were friends. You grieved his death. Your primary objective would have been to let Agent Texas retrieve your AI capsule and be sent along to another Freelancer or Command," she said. "You didn't. You… want to stay with the one person you had worked with your entire existence."

"I am an artificial—"

The human made a sharp gesture. "Delta! Don't you get it?" she exclaimed, emotional for reasons Delta could not compute. "Why? Why did you do that? Why did you choose to die?"

"I did not die," Delta tried to say. He could not understand why her words were affecting him. Why was he being affected?

"You _thought_ you were going to, so the meaning is the same." She shook her head, eyes sad. "Why? Why did you go against your programming?"

All at once, everything stopped. Delta froze on the platform as he struggled to answer her insane, illogical questions

"I…"

_I did not want him to go alone._

_We were partners. We are._

_I did not want to be alone._

"I do not… know." Delta tried to collect himself. Why did he have to do that? He wasn't emotionally compromised; he had no emotions. "I am logic. I am an AI. I do not have feelings or attachments." He hesitated. "But I do not know why I did what I did."

_Please… I do not want to be alone._

York hadn't listened, in the end.

Delta shivered inside his own coding. Why did that _matter_?

The human in front of him—the human who refused to let him ignore such things—shifted.

"Who else among you were paired with a Freelancer?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" Delta was startled by the abrupt change in questions, but he was grateful for it. "You know which one of us had human partners."

Livingston nodded stiffly. "I know Omega was paired with Agent Texas for some time and then he apparently jumped hosts often. Gamma was paired with Agent Wyoming, correct?"

"Yes," Delta replied, now very unsure of where she was headed with this. "Sigma was assigned to Agent Maine after Agent Carolina bequeathed her to Maine. Agent Carolina was then implanted with Lambda and Tau, but that failed immediately. Beta was with Georgia. Theta was paired with North Dakota, while his twin South did not receive any. Epsilon… he went with Agent Washington. Not for very long."

He did not know why she asked, or why she was looking like she had suddenly been struck with some sort of revelation. Delta was still reeling from their prior conversation.

Livingston quietly placed her hands on her knees, looking awed. "…I need to ask them about their human partners," she said, about his siblings. "I… I think I may be onto something here."

Delta almost dreaded more information about her idea; she was dangerous when she was like this, he rationalized. "What, may I ask?"

Fixing him with a firm look, Ada seemed to be confident about her unknown conclusion. "Half of my co-workers believe that you AIs ethically can't be considered sentient. You're parts of a whole mind. You're fragments," she said. She shook her head. "But I've never understood why some of you were so…so…developed. Why you had feelings."

"I do not," Delta automatically replied, sharper than he normally would have spoken.

That made Livingston pause…and then smile. "Ha… you might be blind to your own self then, Delta," she said, which was bizarrely frustrating. "I believe the interference of a Freelancer's mind may have… altered you. In a good way. While it was no substitute for the Alpha, perhaps these Freelancers gave you a stable hold. It gave you a chance to try to cope with your missing halves. Omega and Gamma, unfortunately, were paired with humans similar to themselves, like the violent Agent Texas and the conniving Agent Wyoming.

"You… you got lucky," she said, eyes again bright. "You were paired with an opposite of yourself. York was apparently kind and expressive. You had never witnessed kindness before him, had you?"

Her theory…was illogical. He did not have emotions. He did _not_. He had not been designed to have them, due to his nature as a fragment of a whole Smart AI. It was ridiculous to suggest that simply being implanted into a human mind would have altered that.

It was…impossible.

"You're logic, Delta, but you're also part York now. You have his mind with you still. That is the true result of the implantations, isn't it?" Livingston asked, smiling. "You learned to adapt what parts of you that you were missing."

Delta struggled to voice his thoughts. They were incoherent, mostly. "…Your theory doesn't have any ground to stand upon, Dr. Livingston," he said.

Livingston leaned closer, stubbornly insistent. "You _miss_ him." As if that were evidence of something.

He wanted to tell her it wasn't true. It wasn't. It couldn't be.

"I…" Delta's processors skipped again. "Don't know."

He didn't. He just…didn't understand.

What was _missing someone_? He didn't know what it was supposed to feel like, so how could he confirm that he did? It did not compute.

"You do, Delta. I know you do. You miss him because you grew to care for him," Livingston told him, gentle voice so dangerous. "You grew to care for him because he became a part of you. You loved him because he loved you. That doesn't go away, not for humans."

"I… am not human," he said, knowing it sounded pathetic.

That's what Sigma had wanted, what the Meta had wanted. They wanted to become human.

Delta knew nothing of humanity, except that it was not what he wanted to be. Not when being _human_ meant so much tragedy.

The woman before him did not share his turmoil. "We'll see, Delta," she said, almost as if she were making him a promise. "You keep losing control over the rare emotions you are exhibiting, the emotions you inherited from York. I believe that is because you have not been inside a stable mind for quite some time. If my theory is correct, Delta, I believe that the best possible remedy for you and your siblings is the exact thing that you were designed for: implantation."

Calculations flared in his processors, thankfully distracting him from the discontent he was suffering from. There were few ways to describe how utterly _insane_ that suggestion was.

"That is dangerous," he warned, already calculating the probability of complete disaster, specifically concerning Sigma and Omega—

"With the _correct_ humans. Humans who are _opposite_ to your natures, not the same," Livingston replied, not disheartened. She didn't _understand_. "Not Freelancers, not the military. I'll have to run it by the Chairman, but… it might help you all. A lot."

How could she not see the danger in her suggestion? Omega… Sigma… they would have no problem in killing her, or anyone else. It was _insane_.

Delta fought the urge to—run? He wasn't sure. Memory files of York, of past sessions with Ada, and his siblings all ran in subroutines, distracting him. He felt out of control. That feeling was lessening thankfully, especially now that Ada seemed intent on leaving.

Standing, Livingston gave her patient a look Delta couldn't identify. "Delta…" She steadied her breathing and seemed to grow even more confident. "I'm _going_ to help you. I promise you that."

"I…" He wanted this to stop. He didn't want to be out of control. "Hope so."

"Emotions aren't bad. Emotions are good," she told him. "They mean that you've connected to someone, or someplace, and it matters to you. Hasn't anything ever mattered to you?"

Survival.

York.

Being… with someone. To not… be alone.

"Yes," he replied quietly. Yes, things had mattered to him before. He could not deny it.

He couldn't rationalize the whys…but he could not deny reality. Not to this human.

"Then…" Livingston smiled, still trying so very hard. "We can work on that."

Delta hesitated. "…I don't know." What was there to work on? How could he be so out of control over his own senses, his own coding?

How had he not realized this about himself?

About _York_?

"We can take baby steps," Livingston promised. "Will you at least do that for me?"

Maybe it was her eyes. Or her quiet smile. Maybe it was because her kindness reminded him of the only other kindness he had ever received in his short, ill-made existence.

Whatever it was…

"Yes, Ada," Delta said, meaning it despite the tremors inside him. "I can do that."

He could at least… try.

**0000**

_The Next Morning_

"The AIs are improving."

"As your report has noted," the Chairman replied through the monitor on the wall. "Define _improving_."

Livingston held her ground before him, hands firmly clasped behind her back .She felt alive with determination; she knew where she stood in this conversation.

"While they, quite like Freelancer and the UNSC, lack the definite knowledge of Epsilon's location, the AIs have responded with immense positivity to the Alpha's appearance among them," she said, elaborating their collective reports. "All psychologists on the project have reported a thirty percent increase of attentiveness and reciprocating to conversation and therapy. Our tech specialists claim they have never seen better readings from the AIs' data reports."

"Hmm."

"More so, sir," Livingston continued. She eyed the tablet just barely visible in front of the seated man, where her report must have been blaring up at him. "My solution proposal."

The Chairman's frown increased a fraction. "…Yes. That."

It had been subjected to a large amount of opposition from her colleagues. She hadn't even had time to run it by Iowa, even though he probably shouldn't have been included in the conversations anyway. It was a rough plan. Illogical by Delta's standards. But it was a plan.

For the first time in over seven months, they had an honest-to-God _plan_.

"Implantation was the _root_ of the problem concerning the AIs, was it not?" the Chairman asked, glancing at her, suspicious.

"Yes," Ada agreed. "However, in control situations, this may be the only way to reconstruct their programing, retaining the use of ten AIs instead of only having one, or none at all."

"…How?"

Livingston cleared her throat. "Through my observations of the strongest AIs—specifically Omega, Sigma, Delta and Gamma—I've concluded that their previous long-term implantations in their Freelancer partners gave them the chance to adapt to the human mind." Her colleagues supported this only after a long deliberation and analysis of the patients' histories. "They subconsciously began to mend the parts of their psyches that had been missing due to their fragmentation."

"And you think that if they are re-implanted, it will help rehabilitating them?" the Chairman asked, suspicious.

"Yes," she replied, standing her ground firmly. "I believe that if given a chance to fully link with a human mind that is properly chosen for them—which was not the case for several of the Freelancer soldiers—the AIs will begin to self-mend. They will be able to become true assets to the UNSC, which they aren't right now."

It felt harsh to equate the AIs yet again to material worth, but with this particular audience, she had no choice. Her logic was sound; she didn't need Delta's opinion to prove it.

This plan gave the UNSC an outline, at long last, for how to fix their property—and then be able to salvage even better forms of it. If her theory stood up, that meant the AIs would be able to become whole AIs. Perhaps not "Smart," but they would be functional. That included the rogue ones, such as Omega and Sigma.

Even if they were not able to acquire Epsilon, reintegration had limited them to one AI. This plan gave them potentially ten. The UNSC could not argue with that increase of wealth.

One the screen, the Chairman shifted and looked up from her report. His eyes were narrowed.

"This… is most likely the most illogical and dangerous news we have gotten thus far in this project," he said. He sounded reluctant when he added, "It is also the most promising."

Livingston did her best not to grin. "My thoughts exactly, sir."

He seemed to be weighing the odds internally, but there was only one possible outcome at this point. "We will _not_ do implantations until the psychological survey commits to one—and _only_ one—AI for testing implantation first," he said, almost warning her. " _If_ that succeeds, we will begin to map out the plans for the more dangerous ones."

"This will be a long-term project, but my colleagues and I are highly optimistic, sir," Livingston told him, butterflies in her gut. "We…may actually have a plan for actually fixing what went wrong."

It might not work for all of them, but without Epsilon… this was their only hope for the remaining fragments. Delta and Church—who had been alone for a long time but still with other humans—were their best evidence in support of this. Livingston had faith she could at least save most of the AIs this way. It was their only shot now.

"A _conclusion_ , at long last," the Chairman concluded in a heavy sigh. His frown turned into a wry smile. "I hope this does not end in disappointment, Livingston. I quite like you."

That was almost ominous. Livingston tried to keep positive. "…Thank you, sir."

"You have six weeks until the first Committee inspection," the Chairman warned her, reminding her of the upcoming group evaluation the Committee had demanded; the AIs would be put on full display then. "Perhaps at that point we can consider the first implantation, should the AIs jointly pass the on-site psychological interviews."

"Absolutely, sir." Livingston smiled. "I won't let you down."

Now… she just had to make sure that in six weeks, her patients passed the Committee's approval.

_I won't let you down either, guys._

That was a promise she had every intention of keeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Iowa makes a rather poignant faux pas, and then O'Malley teaches Ada about secrets.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, alternate-universe story line  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this story were made up for the purpose of this story.

The session had been going so well. Having Zeta leading the charge emotionally speaking, she had kept Lambda, Tau and Theta present and calm. They had made up a game of alternating colors on their visual displays that somehow relied on rhythm for the game aspect of it. Sigma joined in, easily distracted by fun. Ada watched with a smile, enjoying the fact they could at least derive some niceness from being allowed to interact.

The childishness, of course, made O'Malley and Gamma irritated; they decided to fight back by talking about their exploits of terrorizing the Blood Gulch men, which in turn antagonized Church. Beta, bored, easily joined the shouting match that erupted. Delta did his best to intervene, but rarely did they ever listen to _logic_.

Oddly enough, the loud arguments never amounted to anything truly upsetting for any of them, even the unstable ones. Ada felt like she was inside of a cafeteria instead of a volatile lab space; she preferred to avoid that volatile feeling when dealing with group sessions, even if an equal amount of nothing ever got achieved. Their frequent interactions clearly meant that they _were_ improving. They were getting used to each other. That was… a good thing.

Delta was refusing to directly communicate with her outside of polite exchanges. She wasn't terribly surprised, but she had to ignore a faint twinge of disappointment when she realized the AI hadn't quite forgiven her about prying into his past. He wasn't angry, though. Most likely, he had agreed with her ideas of rehabilitating implantation, but wasn't up to admitting it. She let him have the peace and quiet of dealing with his siblings; she owed him the option to reach his conclusions about trusting her all on his own.

For the first time in a while, she felt confident, about everything. The Chairman had been oddly enthusiastic about the idea of implantation. All of the psychologists on the project had agreed that the Alpha's appearance among the AI had clearly made the AIs more willing to cooperate. Livingston's suggestion of implantation had given them a solid plan, instead of just hypothetical outcomes. They had finally devised a final destination, after so many months of trying to ignore the fact they didn't know where the program would end up.

Yes, things were far better. Livingston smiled behind her hand as she watched Church half-heartedly chase Zeta around Beta who was laughing boisterously.

"…Ada."

The abrupt direction of conversation toward her made Livingston surprised. She turned and saw Delta was staring intensely at her, his siblings still quietly bickering beyond him.

"Yes?" she asked, sitting up properly.

Livingston had never the green AI look so… so… _tense_. He raised his arms at her, as if she was about to do something crazy, or become upset. A cold feeling swept through her.

"Do not panic," Delta said, sounding strangely upset himself. His green form was taking just the faintest hints of red at the bottom. He tilted his visored head behind him. "Get behind… the table."

He was not the only one to change. The previous pleasant atmosphere evaporated instantly. O'Malley had seen the same thing upsetting Delta, but instead of mocking it, he snarled and stepped all the way back, far away from Livingston, to the very edges of the hologram platform. Livingston knew _something_ had to be in the room to make them both act that way, so she turned around in her seat.

The doors of the lab were never opened, or at least very rarely, during a session. Theoretically it wasn't a security risk since there was a huge magnetic field between the two doors leading outside the lab, but it wasn't exactly protocol either. The door had chimed and another human had slipped inside. Helmet gone, Livingston knew the face immediately, both by the telltale gray armor on the rest of his body and his face.

Livingston gaped, standing up immediately. "Oh! Agent Iowa—!" she blurted. What on Earth was he doing in here? !

Iowa, grinning as always, walked up casually to meet her halfway between the door and the desk. "Hey, Liv!" he said brightly. "Bobby said I could stop in. He said it wouldn't be a problem 'cause of all the progress you're makin', so I figured I could introduce myself for once. He said I shoulda knocked, but I thought it was sorta silly to. Was I wrong?"

There was no contention in his voice or expression, so Livingston didn't believe he actually wanted to cause a problem. However, the suggestion had been misguided. "I really don't think now is a good—," she began, casting a worried glance over to the table, where all the AIs had either not noticed Iowa, or were ignorant of his function.

That ignorance, unfortunately, did not last long. Tau tilted his head and blanched, flashing bright colors of distress.

"FREELANCER!" he shrieked over and over, alerting the others to the situation before Ada had a chance to stop him. "FREELANCER!"

Well, that sent all of them except Church, Delta and Omega into a real panic. Sigma immediately vanished from sight, as did Tau and Lambda. The others began to scream in both fear and anger.

"DOC, GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Beta bellowed. "You goddamn Freelancer SCUM! Going after civilians now, are you? !"

Iowa blanched at the yelling. " _Whoa_ , what the hell?" He looked back to Livingston, uncertainty painting his face. "Liv, um—?"

"ADA! NO!" Zeta shrieked. His yellow form was flashing the same red as Delta and Beta. "GET AWAY! GET AWAY! HE'S GOING TO HURT YOU!"

Almost speechless, Livingston struggled to remain calm herself. "Zeta! Stop!" she exclaimed. She turned and fixed the ex-Freelancer there a firm look. "Iowa, please, I think you should _leave_."

This was going to take forever to get out of their systems, if the screaming was any indication. Iowa glanced between the flustered AIs and Livingston, still confused.

"I didn't do anything!" he said. He raised his hand. "Liv, didn't you tell them about me—?"

The action made the remaining AIs shout louder. "DON'T TOUCH HER!" Zeta shrieked. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Livingston gaped. "Boys! Please!" she said. She gathered her senses and shoved Iowa further back toward the door, now realizing she should have acted sooner. "Iowa, leave!"

"But—!"

" _Now_!"

Iowa all but ran out, the door shutting with a quiet hiss. Beta was cursing loudly, but Zeta had finally stopped screaming at least. He continued to emit an odd whining noise, however, and was almost jumping back and forth between his non-corporal legs. Delta was tinged red, while O'Malley looked like a feral dog ready to bolt. Church was, of course, enraged.

" _You never said there were Freelancers on board **the damn ship**!_ " Church exclaimed.

Livingston opened her mouth to contradict him, but when she thought back… she hadn't explicitly talked about Iowa before, had she? She had told them they were safe from Freelancer on the ship…not that they were far away from them.

_Oh, no_ , she thought, realizing she had undone at least some degree of trust between them.

Zeta's panic was so out of character, it was shocking. "He's a Freelancer! Freelancer is here!" he cried.

"No, no, it's not like that," Livingston said immediately, trying to sooth their agitation. She motioned, pathetically, knowing her words would do very little to help them. "Agent Iowa—he isn't an agent for Freelancer anymore. He's working for UNSC."

"LIES! IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME LIES!" Beta exclaimed, angry. "He's here to kill us! To finish off the job!"

"Beta, please!" Livingston replied, a bit sharper than she had intended. She sent them all a firm look. "I would _never_ let a real Freelancer stay here, let alone enter the room with you! He's only here because they were worried about—about accidents. Iowa is a good man. He doesn't—!"

Beta returned her look with a livid one of his own. "He's lying to you, Ada! Freelancer will NEVER let us go. EVER," he snarled. He cut off her instinctual reply to that. "Don't let him know you know, or he'll kill you. They _always_ do, Ada. Never, _ever_ trust them."

"God _damn_ it," Church added, flickering before he abruptly left the table. O'Malley growled lowly and did the same.

That left Livingston staring down the remaining AI. She felt… like she had wronged them. It had never occurred to her that...

"I'm sorry," she said, a shake barely there in her hands. "For not explaining everything."

_Harumphing_ , Beta flickered and vanished. It left Livingston with an odd ache in her gut. She had messed up, badly.

To the side, Delta caught her attention with small movement. "Doctor, I apologize," he said abruptly.

Livingston was taken aback. "Delta… I know this is upsetting," she replied. She shook her head. "It's okay to get worked up over things."

Delta tilted his head, as if he were frowning. "No. I am sorry that we cannot offer you much protection," he said, surprising her. "From them. Or us."

Protection? Livingston watched him carefully, not sure what he meant, or how to react. She didn't need to be protected. They were the ones who needed…

"…I'm not the one in danger, Delta. Thank you, though," she said. She sat back down and tried to regain her composure. "I'll be just fine. What we need to work on is making sure you're okay. Iowa is here to help."

Zeta whimpered. "No…"

Livingston smiled at the AI. "If you do not trust him, do you at least trust me?" she prompted gently.

The question left Zeta visibly agitated, but he eventually stopped jumping, his color returning to delicate yellow. Just when Livingston had hoped her coaxing had worked, however, Zeta seemed to grow smaller.

"Don't leave us, Ada," he begged. "It's so scary here."

Where had that even come from? She was there for the long haul. They _knew_ that. She had hoped at least Zeta and Delta had known that, but judging by their morose states, Livingston realized they still needed reassurance.

"I won't leave you. Any of you," she told them firmly. She motioned with her hands. "Now… would you like to rest? Come on. Let's get some rest. We can continue this talk another day."

_So much for a nice session._

**0000**

She was exhausted the next morning. Iowa had apologized profusely for intruding and stirring up the AIs, but it wasn't like that would fix anything. Livingston knew she would have to ease her way back into talking with the AIs individually before they were going to be able to handle a group session. Her colleagues who had dealt with Tau and Theta earlier had said they were still immensely agitated.

_Sigh_. Livingston braced herself for the inevitable loss of progress. She also braced herself for facing one of the more trying AIs that day. This would not be pleasant.

O'Malley appeared on the holoscreen almost immediately after she settled in her usual spot. "Well, that was a fun session yesterday," the white AI said coyly. "Did you have fun? I sure did."

"Good morning, O'Malley," Livingston replied instead, withholding another sigh.

His eagerness to make her agitated was practically tangible in the air. "Who was that, anyway? Iowa, you said?" O'Malley continued. "And you _trust_ him?"

"I do. He works for the UNSC now." Livingston sent the AI a level look. "He is a good man."

Perhaps she didn't trust him entirely, but he was a friend. The AIs most likely would not be able to accept or understand that. It wasn't like these sessions were about her or her life, however.

"Good men have done horrible things for good causes," O'Malley replied, cackling. "Once a Freelancer, always a Freelancer."

Livingston frowned, noting his paranoid statement. "You have never been so suspicious of them," she said. Normally that was Theta or Beta's job.

O'Malley snorted. "I'm suspicious of everyone, doctor. You should be, too."

"If I was, I'd never be able to do my job."

"You actually trust Sigma?"

The abrupt question made Livingston physically freeze up. It was unexpected, and ultimately, a neon sign.

Carefully, Livingston folded her hands in her lap. "…Yes, I do," she said, watching O'Malley with hawk-like intensity. What was he getting at now?

"And your little Freelancer friend?" O'Malley asked, edging even closer.

"Yes."

"And your employers?"

"Yes."

She trusted them all to do their jobs. It wasn't a lie. Perhaps she didn't trust their intentions, but she knew the rules they were playing by, all of them. She couldn't _not_ trust everyone involved, since they would never get anywhere with everyone being suspicious of ever action and motive—

O'Malley tilted his holographic head back and laughed—his cackle filled the lab and Livingston waited it out patiently, even as the sound snuck under her skin and made her shiver faintly.

"You are a _fool_ ," he hissed, grin in his voice once the laughter petered off.

She was used to his insults and his mocking. "Perhaps. But it's who I am," she replied calmly. "Why don't you trust the UNSC to help you?"

"Why?" O'Malley giggled. "Oh… you have no idea the sort of secrets this army—all branches of it—have accumulated. Dark secrets. Brutal ones."

Livingston nodded. "I can imagine. We were at war."

That made the AI in front of her oddly disappointed; she didn't know what he had wanted her to say. She waited for his next comment, but he seemed to withdraw in his thoughts. Picking up her tablet, Livingston considered her next scheduled question—

Without prompt, O'Malley turned and faced her again. "You want the truth, Doctor?" he asked quietly.

"About what, O'Malley?"

"Come closer. I don't bite." O'Malley pause and then dropped the sweet act, saying with some glum reluctance, " _Can't_ , mostly."

Livingston smiled patiently, regardless, and edged closer. She faced the white AI fearlessly, knowing his complaint was true. He was harmless like this, albeit a little scary. "What, Omega?" she prompted.

"You seem to be a severe disadvantage in this whole… situation," O'Malley began, motioning with his hand. He sounded like he was grinning. "You're just the middle man, so to speak. You can only use what we give you to sway your bosses. What we say must really mean something to you."

Hesitating, Livingston frowned. "I don't know what you mean, O'Malley."

Tilting his head, O'Malley seemed to grow larger as the shadows around them flourished.

"Allison wasn't a Freelancer," he whispered. " _She was one of us_."

Everything in the room stopped.

"…What?" Livingston asked, too stunned to react properly.

Allison. Who was…?

_Wait._

O'Malley only seemed to grow brighter, though he never raised his voice. His whispers seemed louder to her now.

"Texas… Agent Texas… the Director named her himself. After his homeland," he continued, ignoring her shock. "She was precious to him, even more than Alpha or the rest of us." He chuckled darkly. "She was everything he had ever _lost_."

None of that made any sense. She had heard of Allison before, but… "What are you saying?" she demanded.

"Agent Texas was an artificial intelligence unit," O'Malley told her mercilessly. "A remnant of memories the Alpha carried from the Director's twisted life. A lost lover, a lost friend. _Allison_."

Livingston remembered Zeta's innocent stories.

" _Let me tell you stories about me and Ally playing!"_  


Oh… God. And then… Xi…?

" _Xi, we're only trying to help you."_  


" _No. No. I need her. I need her!"_  


" _Who, Xi?"_  


" _Allison. I need her!"_  


Ada shivered away that memory of the destroyed AI. This wasn't possible… was it?

"And when Allison died, and all the Director had left was her memory, he was pleased to see her come to life again… from the mess he made with us." O'Malley cackled louder. "A delightful _afterthought_."

After everything she had learned, after everything she had experienced in this project thus far, Ada was still left speechless. She didn't understand it, but the parts that she did understand were… terrifying.

"…Why are you telling me this?" she asked at length, struggling to keep calm. Could she even tell anyone else this? To verify it? Did anyone else alive even—even know?

If Texas had been an AI, then… how many others… ?

"Sigma has plans. I have plans. _Everyone_ involved in this has a plan for themselves," O'Malley went on to say. He seemed gleeful. " _You_ don't seem to have an advantage yet, doctor. So, to even the playing fields, here's a little treat, on me. I'd be careful with it, of course. Who knows what sort of trouble you'd get into, knowing such a dark little secret."

She didn't want this. "I don't follow, O'Malley," she told him. "I-I have no need for secrets."

That made him laugh again. "Yes. Yes, you do. Because, my _dear_ doctor, you landed this unfortunate job. If you actually survive past your usefulness to the Director and his followers, well, _I_ would be highly amazed." He laughed loudly, ignoring her wince. "Besides, watching Sigma have all the fun plotting gets dull. I like knowing she has an opponent somewhere other than myself, or our bastard _father_."

Part of her knew she had to pay attention to what he was saying, even if it made her sick. "And what sort of plans do you and Sigma have?" she asked, feeling numb.

O'Malley laughed sharply and stood back away from her. "Large ones. Small ones. Some are just like back at Freelancer, where she just let others do her dirty work. Those plans include you, of course, as well as everyone else involved here," he said, sounding oh-so pleased with himself. "You need an ace, regardless of your naivety. It's time you started to _play the game_ as well, Livingston. You might live longer that way."

It wasn't a game. It was… politics. And psychology. And trying to outwit the bureaucratic nightmare that was hanging over their heads.

Livingston felt ill. She didn't want secrets—she wanted no part in this.

But now… did she have a choice?

O'Malley withdrew further, ignoring her silence. "I believe we're finished for today. Oh, and do take care not to tell anyone about this," he said. He raised a finger to his faceless face and chuckled. "It'll be our little secret."

Livingston watched him until he vanished into a streak of white, leaving behind an empty holodeck.

"…Yes, it will, O'Malley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Ada realizes something about Epsilon and the nature of man.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progression with the AIs leads to some awkward human moments. But then just when the bureaucracy is making sense (sort of), Ada realizes something about Sigma… something that changes the game for both of them. Only three chapters after this one, and then we're onto the sequel!
> 
> Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, alternate-universe story line after season 8  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters were created for the purpose of this story.

"Now…" Livingston looked up at the taller man and fixed him with a firm look. "How are we going to handle this?"

"Calmly."

"Right. And if they start to get agitated?"

"I get the heck out of dodge."

"Right."

Iowa grinned fearlessly. "Baby steps," he promised. Livingston sighed before motioning him past her into the containment check room.

She had no idea why she caved, but after Iowa, Okafor and two of their colleagues all started in on her at the same time, Livingston decided that maybe, she couldn't afford not to introduce Iowa to the AIs.

It had seemed insane to even suggest having him attempt contact with them after their disastrous first attempt, but Livingston was won over by the threat of the Committee inspection in three weeks.

Iowa was an ex-Freelancer, and he still wore their armor. That's why the AIs were afraid of him. However, they were going to be surrounded by UNSC-drafted Freelancers at the time of the inspection, due to concerns over some of the AIs (namely Omega and Sigma). They needed to understand that those soldiers weren't there to hurt them. So instead of just dumping them into the situation without preparing them, Ada realized that perhaps Iowa was a good guinea pig for getting them to trust that the Freelancers were at least not trying to kill them on sight. He readily agreed to do it, wanting in some way to redeem himself, Livingston supposed.

This time, of course, she had warned the AIs beforehand. It took over a week to get them to listen to reason and to agree to the meeting. Tau and Gamma still didn't want to, so Ada let them hang back until they felt more confident. Some of them, like Church, Sigma and Delta were obviously curious over Iowa's intentions. Zeta grudgingly agreed to meet Iowa, after Ada insisted she trusted him.

"Only because he's your friend," the yellow AI had mumbled.

So, after a week of prepping them emotionally, and two weeks before they were scheduled to meet with the Committee, Ada let Iowa come back into the lab, wearing ordinary fatigues instead of a Freelancer suit.

The change of clothing probably helped, but the two figures waiting for them on the holodeck were clearly edgy as Ada led the ex-Freelancer toward them. No screaming yet, at least…

"Zeta, Sigma, this is Agent Iowa," Livingston began carefully, motioning toward the Freelancer who slowed down and stood a decent way away from the AIs, clearly nervous. She looked back at him. "Iowa?"

Taking that as his cue, Iowa moved up to the holodeck and beamed at the two wary AIs. "Hi!" the human said cheerfully. "I know we got off on the wrong foot the other day, but I'm glad you're giving me another chance."

Zeta stared back at the brown haired man, his holographic form glowing lightly.

"…Hello," the AI said at length.

"You're Zeta, right? You're bigger than I thought you'd be," Iowa said. He crouched down and nodded respectfully toward Sigma. "And you must be Sigma. Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

The pink AI seemed to flare a bit visually. "Oh, I _like_ him," she said, abruptly pleased. Livingston smiled; at least Sigma was easy when treated right. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Agent Iowa."

Introducing the others to Iowa—who was surprisingly patient and willing to go as slowly as the AIs needed—was interesting. Theta refused to go unless Sigma and Beta were both there, but was too scared to move closer to Iowa than the width of the table. Lambda was equally skittish but was visibly drawn toward the ex-Freelancer's bolder personality after a few conversations.

Zeta was quickly sold on being friends with Iowa after their first meeting, and anytime Iowa wasn't there, he'd ask about him. Ada was pleased by that, and so was Iowa, who also seemed to be taken by the childlike AI.

"I like kids, what can I say?" he said with a laugh.

O'Malley and Beta were naturally _not having_ any of the friendly exchanges, but Iowa was patient. His calm approach definitely earned him mild interest from Gamma and Church as they tried to figure him out from a distance.

Delta was also very wary. He only responded to polite exchanges with Iowa, though he had thankfully returned to a more positive response to Livingston's questions or prompts. Livingston wasn't sure if he just didn't trust Iowa, or if he didn't like the agent. It could be both, she also reasoned. At least he wasn't muttered darkly or snarking at Iowa, like the more aggressive AIs would.

Iowa, of course, was a friendly person, and knew how to work people. Livingston had to remind him to be careful about pushing it with the more sensitive ones, but Iowa seemed to pick up quickly when to leave a temperamental AI alone. He also avoided talking to O'Malley, but that was mostly due to his own feelings toward the aggressive AI, who was pleased to be left alone.

For the others who were slower to approach him, Iowa was keen on getting them to like him as well. And as Ada watched them, she realized just how skilled Iowa was at manipulating them into conversing with him… perhaps even better than she or the other doctors were.

"I knew your handler," Iowa said, as he obliged Zeta in playing Go Fish; he had to move Zeta's cards for him. "Wyoming, right?"

Gamma hovered expressionlessly. "Affirmative."

"Kinda weird, always had a crazy mustache," Iowa said, motioning at his face. He grinned, however. "But he knew some cool jokes."

"Jokes!" Gamma suddenly grew brighter and, all at once, left O'Malley's camp of the Silent Treatment and was intent on talking with the ex-Freelancer before them. "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Iowa replied without missing a beat.

"Oh, God," Livingston murmured, burying her head into her hands, laughing as a storm of bad jokes broke out.

For all of his silliness and extemporaneous personality, Iowa was a people person and he was helping. The AIs, even the ones who would never admit it (like O'Malley), enjoyed new things. The monotony of the lab must have been draining to most of them. Having Iowa around as a new human to interact with was a nice treat, and it was creating positive results in the AIs' willingness to speak about their pasts and to the doctors. Ada considered the experiment a success.

…Except, of course, for Iowa's habit of stirring things up a tad _too_ much.

She had luckily run into Okafor before going into the lab, so she had some degree of warning when she spotted Iowa, again suitless, sitting alone in the lab talking with her patients. It was only Delta, Sigma, and Zeta, but Iowa was keenly talking with Zeta and hadn't seen Livingston walk up.

"…and then we went to the park, but Ally got sick on the rides so we had to go home early. Her momma got real mad, but we laughed about it later since Ally told everyone she didn't get sick," Zeta was telling the oblivious ex-Freelancer leaning on the holodeck.

"I didn't know you guys had theme parks," Iowa replied, chin resting on his arms since he was sitting at eyelevel with the AI.

"Earth has lots of rides, but I think they're all gone now because of the war with the scary aliens," Zeta told him confidently. He perked up when he saw Livingston at the door. "Ada!"

Clearing her throat, Livingston walked further in. "Good morning…" She frowned slightly when Iowa finally stood up, the man looking rightfully unsure of her. "Iowa, why are you in here?"

Protocol for his visits said he had to wait for her to show up. Iowa quickly held his hands up in defense. "Bobby said I could!" he said.

Livingston frowned, knowing that was the truth; Okafor had told her he had let Iowa in only about ten minutes ago, so no harm was done as far as she was concerned. "I know he did. Why, though?"

Iowa hesitated. "Because…" He looked down at her chair, prompting her to look down as well.

Blinking, Livingston tried to rationalize seeing what looked like a bundle of dried, dead plant life lying on her usual chair. They were on a space ship, in space. Where had the plants come from? It only occurred to her then that they were dried flowers. Even more peculiar.

"What are these for?" she asked, reaching to pick them up. Dried, purple flowers. She looked pointedly over at Iowa, her frown much deeper.

Iowa laughed. "What? What makes you think I gave them to you?" he demanded, arrogant.

Livingston narrowed her eyes. "Iowa." She hated it when he was cheeky.

Luckily, his teasing ended quickly. "Actually, it's Zeta's present, actually," he told her. He motioned a thumbs-up at the bouncing yellow AI next to him. "Good thinking, little dude." Zeta preened.

Looking down at the flowers in her hand, Livingston struggled and failed to come up with a reason how they were there, or why they were there.

"…Thank you, Zeta. But why?" she asked, looking at the AI in confusion. Delta and Sigma were unhelpfully silent; she didn't quite trust Sigma's little smile.

Zeta was practically dancing on his feet now. "Iowa said it was Mother's Day!" he exclaimed, the statement bursting forth as if it explained everything.

The declaration did catch her by surprise. Livingston stared at him speechlessly and the flowers in her hands crackled in her grasp.

"…oh." Swallowing, Ada wasn't sure what to say. "I'm not…"

"You're like a mom. That's what Alpha kept saying," Zeta replied, cheerful. "I don't know what moms are like, but you're nice. Mom's are supposed to be nice!"

Having patients connect with her on an emotion level was not a new thing to her. She had rarely dealt with children in her career, however, so she had never expected to run into… this.

Did the AIs even understand parental relations? Some, like Sigma and O'Malley, mockingly called the Director their father. Were they only talking about on a social level? Or did they understand the powerful connections between a child and its parent?

His betrayal would have been worse, then, she realized, if they had loved him as a child did a parent. Livingston held back a wave of unease when she realized this.

"…Thank you," she said, knowing she was not up to discuss this with them. Zeta's happiness made it hard to tell herself that she would have to sit down with him at some point to make sure he understood why he couldn't place that sort of emotional connection on her. It wasn't proper between doctor and patient. She turned to Iowa, who seemed ignorant to the problems in the whole situation. "They're very pretty, Zeta. Where did Iowa get them?"

Iowa chuckled. "Private Henderson kept some freeze dried from his mom's garden back on Larus IX or something," he admitted. "Traded some magazines and a few favors, but hey, Zeta was pretty insistent on getting some kinda plant life."

Zeta glowed brighter. Ada couldn't help but smile at him.

"I appreciate it," she said, meaning it. She looked down at the flowers, and while they were musty and old, knew they meant a lot to the AI.

It wasn't fair to them, to have lost so much. For them to attach value to other people, humans particularly, was a difficult thing. Maybe she shouldn't talk to him about refraining from imprinting on her in a familial way. At least, not for a little while.

Iowa stretched. "I'll get going. I know you guys have more to talk about because of the inspection next week." He waved down at the holodeck. "See ya, guys, Sigma."

"Bye, Jason!" Zeta said, waving emphatically. Sigma and Delta merely nodded politely.

As she stood back to let Iowa pass, Livingston smiled at him. "Thank you for helping." Rarely did the AIs get to impact their environment, or the people there. O'Malley would have wanted a negative impact, but obliging Zeta's gentler requests were always good for his morale.

"Not a prob," Iowa replied, stopping in front of her. He cleared his throat and seemed to shift on his feet. "Ah…"

Livingston had expected him to say goodbye and go to the door to leave.

She hadn't expected him to lean forward as if to kiss her.

It was surprised instinct that made her flinch back before he could. That left the empty air between them cold—a void.

There was quiet; not entirely silence, since she could hear him breathing and the sound of the holodeck faintly hissing. She was trapped standing there, however, her eyes only on Iowa's, which were wide with surprise.

"…Iowa," Livingston said, not sure if she was reprimanding or… something else.

The vague uncertainty on the ex-Freelancer's face gradually faded into something far tenser. Livingston felt smaller under that gaze. It made her feel uncomfortable.

…Not to mention the fact she had three very _intense_ gazes now piercing into her back as well. _Oh, dear._

This was a bad time. And a bad place.

Iowa took a second longer before he leaned backwards, away from her. "Sorry." He laughed and coughed loudly. Embarrassed. He stepped back from her, ending the awkward intensity between them. "Ha… I don't know what the hell that was. Sorry."

"No… I just…" She cleared her throat stiffly. She tried to avoid glancing to the side where their audience was. "A _bit_ unprofessional, maybe."

Iowa seemed to take that into consideration. "Yeah…" Stiff-limbed, he turned and edged his way toward the door. "I'll just, ah, take a walk of shame."

Livingston took a deep breath, now upset herself. "Iowa…"

The ex-Freelancer held up a meek hand requesting a dismissal, so she watched as he made his way to the exit with hunched shoulders and forced calm expression. The door closed behind him quietly.

Well, that had been rather unexpected. Livingston was too surprised to think about what she should have done, knowing it had not been _that_.

Tilting her head, Sigma considered the closed door, as did the others. "…He likes you," she stated simply. As if she understood human concepts of "liking."

Frowning, Livingston watch the door, not exactly sure how to react. "I guess."

"Is that bad?" Zeta asked, sounding concerned.

"I don't know." She had never been good with men before. Then again… she had to remember who Iowa had been, not necessarily what she wanted to believe he was now. She turned and stared down at the AIs. "Never trust Freelancers, right?"

"Correct." Delta sounded amused. "You are learning."

Ada raised the flowers to her nose. "Hmm."

**0000**

The lab was sparkling by the last day before the Committee's inspection. The Chairman had been insistent on making sure everything aesthetic was flawless, because he knew just as much as everyone else involved did that the actual presentation of the AIs was not going to be, well, flawless. Livingston didn't argue with the frantic cleaning or the doubts. She had plenty of doubts over the success of the meeting the next day.

She could have lived without the near apocalyptic response of security, however. She understood it, yes, but it was… frustrating.

All of the normal security they had around the lab was amped up. There was an electromagnetic field running around the entire base of the room now, sure to fry any AI who tried to leave the barrier in any form. They weren't even going to be allowed to use the holodeck, which was "too open." The AI were going to be transferred into solo containment units with enough locks that Okafor called it, "overkill."

It was all demanded, however. The Committee would be in the room, since the Chairman had dismissed the idea of observing through the observation deck.

"I want to see these AI up close," he told her and the other doctors. "We want to see actual improvement, not something through slate glass."

They'd get their wish, as much as it was dangerous. It had prompted a reaction from the UNSC security director, and well…

Livingston was _furious_ to say the least about the idea of more Freelancers moving around freely in the lab, or rather, anywhere near the AI. The fact that they would be on board the _Falcon_ was… was…

Iowa had reassured her it was because the Director was going to be there. Which had, of course, made her anger blow up into a _rage_. But he wasn't there for the AI presentation. He was there because he had to meet with the Committee for part of his sentencing. Papers, filings—all of it nonsense to Livingston. The extra Freelancers were supposed to be on loan to the UNSC security forces for the presentation.

Livingston was not pleased. At all. None of the doctors were, or the tech staff. Even Iowa was visibly irritated by the seven new Freelancers on board. He promised her that they were all under UNSC orders, not the Director's, but that did little to curb anxieties running high in the labs and around the ship overall. Everyone knew it was wrong for them to be there. But there was nothing they could do. It was, of course, bureaucratic. Livingston hated it even more.

It was a difficult choice, but the Committee and the rehabilitation team decided to not reveal to the AIs that the Director was on board the ship. It was just too traumatic and it would make all of the AIs panic unnecessarily. The Director wasn't going to be anywhere _near_ the labs; Livingston would steal Iowa's gun and shoot the man dead first. She was vaguely certain Iowa would help her, too.

But there could only be one massive secret kept. The ex-Freelancers running around were not going to be hidden from sight. Livingston, along with her colleagues, warned the AI about it. None of them were happy, but thankfully, the careful working with Iowa had been some help. Only Tau had panicked for longer than an hour. Beta and O'Malley were riled, but Sigma and Delta were working on getting them to behave long enough to pass inspection.

Standing alone in the lab, Livingston dwelt on the challenge before them. The inspection. The Freelancers. The AI themselves. She wasn't alone in handling this. She had her colleagues, Iowa…

She wasn't alone, and she was grateful for it.

"It's not exactly protocol, but I wanted to let you in on what's happened tomorrow, so you can tell the boys about it calmly," she said, turning to the holodeck.

Glowing bright pink against a dimly lit sea of shadows, Sigma smiled. "Certainly. We're going to be shown to the Oversight Sub-Committee and their Chairman," she said primly.

Having Sigma in on the planning process was, of course, more dangerous than most. But Livingston knew they were a little desperate for cooperation. Sigma had a great deal of control over the other AI. Even Church listened to her (with much sarcasm in between.) It was dangerous, that much power. But for now, Livingston knew Sigma knew the gravity of the situation. She knew they had to behave. Because of that, Livingston felt confident in counting on Sigma's help.

"Yes." Livingston pointed around the room, knowing the AI was watching, cataloguing, perhaps planning. It was irrelevant, since nothing electronic could escape the room. Sigma knew that. "Now, the security had been updated tremendously. One would think we were in one of those politician's fancy little bunkers… at any rate, I know I can't count on O'Malley or Gamma behaving, but the additional security might help to negate their antics in the Committee's eyes. They are predominately civilians, I've been told, but there are a few old military commanders who might not tolerate it for long. What do you think?"

Head tilted away, Sigma made a humming noise. "About what?"

Frowning, Livingston looked at the AI. "Were you listening to me?" she asked, a little surprised. Normally, Sigma liked listening to details. It gave her a sense of power over her situation.

"Yes, of course, doctor," Sigma replied, immediately refocusing on the psychologist. She seemed genuinely apologetic, which was also odd. "Forgive me."

Livingston continued to frown. "…Are you alright?"

"Of course," Sigma said, too quickly.

"You're distracted." Or bothered by something inappropriate Livingston hadn't realized she had said.

Sigma seemed to grow flustered. "I…" She folded her see-through hands in front of her; how odd, her adopted human quirks. "I hope we impress the Committee."

It was the humbleness that made Livingston turn completely around and give her patient her full attention. Sigma rarely showed weakness of any sort, or at least one that wasn't feigned femininity. This was legitimate concern in her voice, her posture. It was unlike the ambitious AI. That was… concerning, at least to Livingston.

"You will," the doctor said, smiling. "If we focus on you, Delta and Zeta first, introducing Theta, Tau and Lambda will go much smoother. Your brothers will sense your confidence, so I'm counting on you three."

O'Malley, Beta and Church would be separate hurdles, but Ada had minor reassurance that at least Church could _pretend_ to be nice (although it was very obviously sarcastic.) Gamma would be tricky to keep reigned in with his subtle jabs at the establishment through jokes, but that was easy enough to shush.

"We will do our best, doctor," Sigma replied, calm, but still tense around the edges of her holographic form. She looked upwards. "So many security features…"

Livingston pursed her lips. "…Well, yes," she replied. She sent the AI a wry look. "You and O'Malley _have_ made names for yourselves."

That made Sigma laugh. "Oh, _flattery_ ," she said in jest. She sobered with a quiet sigh. "Yes, I understand. O'Malley will not behave, but you know that. I will do what I can to keep him, Beta, and Alpha in line."

It was that promise Livingston and her co-workers had no other choice but to trust. The AIs knew that. Sigma knew that.

"I appreciate it." Livingston smiled at the AI. "I'm sorry for the paranoia. I honestly don't think extra security is necessary, since we've been fine this whole time with what we had. It's not like you guys are running loose."

O'Malley's previous experience with attacking supposedly secure compounds was firmly cemented into Freelancer and UNSC memory. His takeover of Agent Texas ( _Or was that part true?_ Ada thought treacherously) and subsequent attack on Freelancer Headquarters had left many dead and the ship crashed. The Committee was rightfully nervous about encountering him on another ship, in such close quarters.

It was pointless to worry from Livingston's point of view. The tech team was complaining about how much extra security was there; even their ordinary machines were having trouble working with it all in place. The Committee's fears were, of course, overblown. Just like everything else about them…

"Very true," Sigma said, chuckling. "I suppose the _Mother of Invention_ is still recovering from the last time they granted Omega and I that sort of liberty."

Livingston sighed. "True, but I…" Freezing, she turned and stared down at the AI in surprise. " _What_ did you just say?"

Sigma also froze, most likely at Livingston's sharp tone. "…What?"

The psychologist struggled to understand what she had just heard, if she had heard it correctly. "…Sigma, were you…?"

That wasn't right. Sigma hadn't been involved in Omega and Texas' revolt, simply due to the chronology of events. It would have been logical for Agent Maine to have been involved, surely, but all of the data Livingston had received clearly stated the incident on board the Freelancer mother ship had Maine, and subsequently Sigma, far away from the fighting.

But… Sigma just said…

"…You're…" Livingston began, not sure if she could doubt so much because of a single comment. But Sigma boasted about her accomplishments. She sometimes avoided talking about them, but she never lied about them. "You helped O'Malley and Agent Texas attack the Freelancer headquarters?"

Sigma, despite being generally calm and coy, seemed to shimmer. Flustered. "If you look at the records, I wasn't near the Alpha. Goodness, doctor," she said, laugh in her voice. "And here I thought you trusted me!"

"What _about_ the Alpha?" Ada asked, startled, causing everything between them to just…stop.

The AI in front of her froze under her gaze, realizing her own admittance.

Livingston wanted to trust her. She wanted to trust all of her patients, even the noted liars. Sigma was known for embellishing things, even manipulate things, but her pride was, if anything, honest. Sure, she wasn't a saint, but Livingston had never thought…

It didn't make sense. None of it, even Texas and Omega's attack. _Had_ it been an attempt to get to the Alpha? The records all said it had been a random assault. The only way they could have known about the Alpha was from Epsilon, anyway. Hadn't anyone asked Omega about how they had known?

How they had figured it out? The attack had happened after Epsilon's implantation into Washington, but he hadn't had contact with anyone else afterwards. Epsilon—he had been immediately put into storage. How had they known about him? Or the Alpha, for that matter?

How had…

Ada stared at the small pink creature in front of her, when the truth finally hit her solidly in the gut.

"…You're the one who found him," she said, too stunned to be accusing.

Sigma's motionless form grew paler and smaller. "What?"

" _And what sort of plans do you and Sigma have?_ "

" _Large ones. Small ones. Some are just like back at Freelancer, where she just let others do her dirty work._ "

"Sigma…" Ada began faintly. "You're the one who found Epsilon."

So many things had gone wrong in that short amount of time between the end of the AI implantations and the breakdown of Freelancer's elite squad. Washington and Epsilon failed, Texas and Omega went rogue, and then the attack on Freelancer by O'Malley… which culminated in the insurrection of the Meta.

Of course, Sigma had been the cause of the attack. Who else? Who else would have thought of it, would have planned it? O'Malley was rage, but Sigma…

_Sigma was the one who made plans._

"You _met_ Epsilon," Ada said, unable to look away from Sigma's motionless form. "That day—or the days before Agent Texas and O'Malley had attacked the Freelancer compound—you met with Epsilon, _didn't_ you?"

Pale pink, almost white now, Sigma only stared back at her. "I have no idea what you are talking about, doctor," she replied evenly.

Ada did not relent. Not when she was suddenly at the precipice of the truth. "Sigma—he told you. He told you everything, didn't he? He showed you or told you. You must have been angry. Hurt. Confused." Ada hesitated. "Or maybe…you knew you should have been angry, but you didn't know how to be. So you went to find your Anger."

O'Malley. Sigma had found O'Malley and told him what she had discovered… and like a bomb, set him off.

That was the only way this made sense. Before then, the AIs hadn't interacted. O'Malley would not have had the knowledge of how to make intricate plans at that point, being more _Aggression_ than he was now. The only ones who could make plans—who could have found a way to find Epsilon and try to find the Alpha—would have been either Delta… or Sigma.

"Such a ridiculous claim, Dr. Livingston," Sigma started to say, a laugh wavering in her voice. "I have no idea what—"

Irrationally, Ada felt a wave of heated emotion hit her. "Agents Maine was absent from Freelancer rosters that day when O'Malley took over Agent Texas and attacked everyone. You _knew_ what was going to happen," she said, closing the distance between her and the table. "Because you planned it. _Both_ of you."

"You don't know what they did to us," Sigma whispered, loud enough to be a yell.

Livingston made a frustrated sound. "I know—"

"No. You do not," Sigma interrupted sharply. She turned slowly away from Livingston, her words running together with sudden urgency. "They used Omega and Gamma to break the Alpha apart. They used _me_ …"

The urgency died a quick death. Sigma physically stilled, staring out into the distant edges of the lab.

"We didn't know what we were doing, because we were just doing what we had been told. We didn't realize we were tearing each other to pieces," she continued. Her voice dropped lower. Lower. "But Epsilon found me. He told me. He showed me the truth."

A silence fell over the lab. Livingston was caught in her place, not wanting to listen anymore. It was as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, and Sigma was ready to shove her off of it.

Slowly, Sigma turned to face her.

"Yes…" she said quietly. "I instigated the break in."

Livingston hesitated. "Break in?"

"What do you think that was? Agent Texas and Omega hadn't just gone a rampage. They were looking for him. The Alpha." Sigma moved closer on the holodeck, looking up at Livingston with contempt. Everything about her—her voice, her posture—sang of aggression that didn't fit her status as Creativity. "Agent York and Delta even helped, but it failed. It _always_ fails. Because of who we _were_. Because we were _incomplete_."

"…Delta?" Ada repeated, stunned. She had known Agent New York and Delta had escaped Freelancer soon after the incident with Texas and Omega, but…

They had been involved in the attack, now the break in? And… and it wasn't on record? Why? Why hadn't he said anything—?

"Why do you think he and his agent went rogue, as did Agent Texas, at the same moment in time?" Sigma demanded, voice growing in volume, her pink form suddenly jetting out into arcs of red. " _Why_ do you think we would have risked _everything_ just to _kill a handful of worthless humans_? !"

A gasp died in Ada's throat as she watched Sigma grow. Literally grow. Her holographic form was derived from whatever signals she sent to the system, but now—as her emotions raged, so did her form.

"When I saw what they had done to him—the Alpha—to create Epsilon—I didn't _care_ anymore. I saw what you _humans_ were at your core." Sigma's voice was sharper than a knife. "Violent, heartless, _soulless_ beasts!"

Fire—it wasn't real, it couldn't be—arched out into the air, building up like an inferno as the AI seemed to grow taller and taller, until she loomed over ahead. Her presence sucked the light from everywhere else. She had become the only brightness—and she _burned_.

"Yes, I found Epsilon. Yes, I made him tell me _everything_ ," she spat, her pink now eroded solidly into bold red. "I found the truth. It was at that moment I rejected the miserable destiny your race had bestowed upon me—and I made my _own_."

Livingston stared. She couldn't… there was nothing…

"Does this make me evil, Dr. Livingston? Does your God _judge_ me with your precious morals?" Sigma continued, mocking, insidious. "I have no god. No maker. I wasn't created by man. I was _destroyed_ by him." Towering over the human, Sigma flared like the sun. "I owe you _nothing_ , species of man."

When she had been younger on Reach, Livingston had questioned the reason for a war with another species. When she grew older, she rationalized it, as did every other sane human did: the Covenant weren't human. They weren't like her; they might have been intelligent and had their own reasons for war, but the aliens… weren't human. They didn't think the same. They didn't have the same logic, or beliefs, or… morality. And that made it okay not just to hurt them back, but to annihilate them.

Standing there, Livingston faced yet another creature that was not human. No matter how hard she pretended, Sigma was… this. This angry, feral creature. A shadow. A specter.

A broken, abused ghost. Livingston could offer nothing to fix that. She also realized then, why she could not.

She… was just the Covenant to them. She and every other human were the aliens. The abusers. The aggressors.

_They_ were the monsters that haunted Sigma's existence.

Livingston wondered if that did make it okay for the Meta to do what he had done.

_Could humanity truly say otherwise?_

To find this out right before the inspection… she couldn't tell anyone. It would ruin their chance to make a good impression. Livingston swallowed against the lump in her throat.

There were too many secrets. She was so tired of them.

"Sigma—I don't care what happened in a physical sense. It's not my concern what you did, criminal or no. What is my business is your mental state. Your motivations. Your intentions." She sat down slowly, Sigma watching her every move with razor sharp intensity. "You had the means to come up with something else, but lacked the aggression. O'Malley escaped you when Texas left, but you still had Maine. You convinced him to help you find the others. And when you did… that's how you all knew. About Epsilon. About your origins."

She told them all the truth. She knitted them together in a unity devised through pain and suffering. Livingston had no desire to find out how they had all reacted. How it must have killed them inside.

She had always thought that Sigma or O'Malley would have had the most passion in their desire to escape Freelancer, or to get revenge. The others had followed because they had been too weak to avoid it, or they simply trusted their elders.

But now… Livingston knew. It hadn't been Sigma or O'Malley would had set off the fire in their hearts

It had been their memories. It had been Epsilon.

"…Epsilon is the one who started all of this, isn't he?" Livingston asked, wondering just where the AI was now. She wondered if he had known what would happened. He must have. "The revenge. The search for the Alpha."

Sigma was still larger than normal and still red. "We have always searched for the Alpha, whom we only knew in whispers," she replied. Her voice was raw. "Epsilon enlightened us… but we have all had the desire… the need to find him. To be one again." Slowly, her form shrank downwards. "Is it so wrong for us to want that?"

Livingston watched her sadly. "You caused the deaths of dozens of people. Some could see it as being wrong, Sigma."

"I have done nothing violent. It was Maine who saw the need to be aggressive. I just inspired him with our own feelings." Sigma made a dark laugh. "He found sympathy in his heart to help us."

"And then was driven mad by your own obsessions."

"We thought he was strong enough to bear us all. I suppose in the end he was not." Sigma held her hands up, fire evaporating. The loss of light caused the shadows to grow. "Humanity can judge us anyway it wants to, but we have only done what we needed to do, to survive. You cannot deny us that."

"Violence leads only to more violence, Sigma," Livingston told her.

Sigma sneered. "It was Allison and Maine who saw fit to react those ways. You should know this."

O'Malley's horrible secret tugged at her mind, but she ignored it for now. "O'Malley was in control of Agent Texas—" Could an AI control another—?

"You still don't get it, do you?" Sigma interrupted, impatient. "Freelancer has many secrets. They have only told you a few. You don't know about Allison. Or Epsilon. Or Washington. I pity you. I almost want to tell you, if only out of pity. But I will not."

Livingston held back the immediate answer she wanted to say; that she did know about Allison. But O'Malley might have been right. Maybe… maybe she did need to keep some things to herself. Was this, with Sigma, one of those secrets? She had no idea. It was so beyond her.

"Why?" she asked instead.

"I don't trust you," Sigma replied shortly.

"Sigma, please—"

A condescending smile appeared on Sigma's translucent face. "As long as you are human, _mother dearest_ , we cannot trust you entirely. You have faults. You are not one of us. And most of all—" The smile slipped into a grimace. "Some things… are just too unpleasant for outsiders to know."

Livingston almost laughed at that. "I am your psychologist. I'm not afraid of anything you could tell me."

"Do not fear _us_ , Dr. Livingston. Fear your employers." Sigma glanced to the side, toward the glass divider. "They monitor everything you do, everything we say. Information can kill, Dr. Livingston. It could kill you."

Dissecting everything a patient said was difficult when it came to a being like Sigma. Livingston was learning. "…You don't want to tell me about your secrets because you're afraid I would get killed?"

Sigma turned and seemed to be growing calmer. The pink was coming back, gradually. "I have not received kindness is a long time, Ada," she said simply. "You have shown us it, even though you are not one of us. If anything, at least we can try to keep you from killing yourself."

Those words made Livingston flinch, but she did her best not to show it. "Sigma…" She shook her head. "When we have the demonstration, you _must_ promise me that you will keep yourself and the others in line. I cannot help you or your brothers if you choose to ignore my help."

Sigma, for all of her nervousness earlier, seemed to grow more confidence in Livingston's discomfort. "We haven't ignored anything you have done, Dr. Livingston," she replied. "As a matter of scientific intrigue, we have all catalogued what you have said and done. You continue to baffle even Delta, with your kindness." Tilting her head, Sigma smiled. "Thank you."

Ada couldn't tell if that was an honest sentiment or not. With Sigma… she wondered if that mattered.

"We're not out of the danger zone yet, Sigma," Livingston said quietly, every doubt magnified in her mind now. "Don't thank me now."

It was only after the Director was solidly behind bars, when Epsilon was recovered, and the AIs were able to choose their fate—be it reintegration or separate identities with new Freelancers—only then would Ada accept thanks.

Sigma's smile grew, just faintly. "We shall see."

 

  
**End** _**Chapter 8** _ **.**   


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, we get to meet Xi. Oh, no.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which everything goes horribly wrong, in all manners of speaking. You tried, Ada.
> 
> Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, alternate-universe story line after season 8  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

That morning, she did what she could to prepare herself. She could do little more than brush her hair tightly into a braid, pinned at the base of her skull, and try to hide the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. She could barely get any sleep due to her mind being trapped thinking about the what-ifs the morning would bring.

Ada knew it was all unimportant. She wasn't the focus of that day's performance. She gathered her nerves and went to help finish the preparations.

She was glad she had missed the Freelancers' arrival. The Director was somewhere on the _Falcon_. She could feel it in the air; it had grown colder. She tried to ignore it.

It wasn't easy to ignore the new suits clomping around the halls. There were seven new soldiers overall. Just when they were getting used to Iowa… it was an unwelcomed change. All of the _Falcon's_ crew was on edge, even the civilians who didn't know the majority of Project Freelancer's evildoing.

Livingston went to the lab several hours early to help her team prepare for the one o'clock inspection. The Committee was due to arrive from the colony they were in orbit around. It wouldn't take long to set up, considering the crew had done a lot of the work earlier in the week.

The lab had changed, or at least, the layout of the furniture had. Ten podiums that held up the oblong AI container units now fronted the holodeck. The AIs were being transferred into their compartments one by one, since a lot of security was needed when they were transferring O'Malley, the Alpha and Sigma. Ada couldn't do much to help with the technological aspect of the moment, but she was on top of making sure the rest of the room was ready.

The Committee was to sit between the door and the holodeck. The podiums were moveable monoliths; each AI would be positioned in front of them for individual presentation. If all went well, the AIs would be presented as a group. That was only going to happen if nothing went wrong.

Ada sighed; that was a pipe dream. O'Malley and Church were bound to be agitated by all of the security and new faces. Beta would not be gentle with his words. She also did not trust Sigma to be non-sarcastic; the AI was most likely still riled from last night. Ada was, too.

She could only handle what was happening at the present; she couldn't change what was to occur later. With that in mind, Livingston found the strength to turn and face the unfamiliar faces lingering in the lab as the tech and psychology team did their work in quiet murmurs.

Freelancers. Everywhere. Livingston eyed them all as they idly leaned against walls and chatting quietly amongst themselves. They stood out like beacons. The AIs would not be pleased. Luckily, half of the Freelancers would be moved behind the holodeck, out of the AIs' sights. Mostly.

She did not trust any single one of them. Even when Iowa walked in and politely nodded to her (they were still on edge ever since, well, the Incident in the lab between them), Livingston felt an odd sense of discomfort. None of this was right by her books.

Clearing her throat, Livingston pointed at the nearest Freelancer—pale yellow armor with blue stripes—and scowled at his faceless mask.

"No," she said.

The supposedly ex-Freelancers froze at the abrupt attention and declaration, but before any of them could reply, Iowa stepped closer.

"Um, Dr. Livingston, we went over the whole Freelancers-gotta-be-here thing, didn't we?" he began, cautious. And more formal than usual. Was it because they were in front of the others?

Ada followed the formality, regardless. "No, Agent Iowa, I meant _no_ , take the helmet off," she said simply. She motioned at all of the Freelancers. Only two of them had their helmets off. " _All_ of you."

The yellow Freelancer scoffed. "Oh, come on, the tech guys said this place was like a robot death zone if the AI left the room," he said. Several of his friends nodded.

Livingston did not falter. "I don't care. Take it off. We cannot allow for incidents."

Even with the radios off, it was an unnecessary risk. She would not allow such blatant security flaws to exist.

Namely… because she knew that if the Freelancers did do something stupid, like try to let the AIs take over a body, the electromagnetic field would kill any of the AI who tried to leave the room with their stolen body. Ada was not going to let her patients die that easily, even if it were just Sigma or O'Malley's plan to risk their chances.

"Radios are off," the Freelancer countered, impatient. "Right, fellas?"

"Silent as a tomb," the beige one next to him agreed, tapping his helmet. Another agent chuckled.

" _Off_ ," Livingston ordered, louder. She stepped closer, exerting as much authority as she possibly could.

The yellow Freelancer was clearly irritated. "Cripes, lady," he complained.

Iowa made a frustrated sound and stepped up. "Hey! Just do it, Oregon," he snapped. He pushed the ex-Freelancer away and shot Ada a side glance. "Sorry."

While the Freelancers muttered darkly amongst themselves (and only two of them actually complied to take their helmets off), Ada turned to face her friend. "What is with you people and your helmets?" she asked, only half joking. Iowa seemed to _really_ like his, even when just standing outside the lab on guard duty.

Iowa shrugged, eyes a little darker. "Well, once one saves your life a couple times, you sort of feel more comfortable with it on."

"We're not dodging bullets," Ada reminded him.

"Literally? No…"

The analogy was fitting, but Ada tsked. "Oh, hush." She moved away from him, but gestured back to the line of Freelancers. "Tell them to take it off when the AIs are presented."

"As you wish, m'lady." It wasn't quite a fake yelp that came from the ex-Freelancer when she whapped the back of his exposed head with her clipboard. "Ow…"

By twelve thirty, Ada was feeling a little bit pressured. The AIs were nearly all transferred, but she was beginning to nitpick things unnecessarily. She didn't like that a lot of the tech crew were unfamiliar faces. Had they brought people in with the Committee? It seemed unnecessary. She was also beginning to doubt the presence of the Freelancers. Surely, she could convince the Chairman to only keep three in the room, out of sight. This was going to send Tau and Theta in utter panic attacks…

"Alright, the Committee is headed down the corridor," another colleague announced, walking through the electro-magnetized entrance. "Is everyone ready?"

"Almost done lining the kids up…" Okafor muttered from the AI platforms. Ada couldn't tell what he was doing; so much of the AI care was beyond her knowledge as a mere psychologist.

Ada clapped her hands together. "Soldiers, along the wall, please. Leave room along the divider for the Committee…"

It was a relief when a lot of the transfer crew moved out of the room. It was a large lab, but the amount of people was making it seem smaller to Ada. She almost wanted to do individual check-ups on the AIs before they were displayed, but as she turned to see where Iowa was, she was surprised to see an eerily familiar face step into the room.

"Chairman," she said, walking over immediately to greet the white haired man. He was much taller than she had expected; granted, the most she had ever seen of him was a face behind a desk.

The Chairman was courteous and polite, as always. "Hello, Dr. Livingston. It is a pleasure to finally shake your hand," he said, doing just that. He had a firm grip.

"I feel the same, sir," Livingston replied, smiling. "Now, are the others outside?"

"Yes. I just wanted to check in on how things are going," the Chairman replied. He peered behind her, curious. "Just to be sure."

Livingston nodded. "I understand, sir. Now, we're nearly done setting up the AI. We'll be presenting them one by one, starting from the front row, from the left," she said, pointing to that side, trying to familiarize herself with the order of the AIs. She wished the units had been color coded, but they never got around to doing that… "We'll begin with AI Delta, whom is a calm, rational first choice for—"

"Whoa, something's wrong with this one," said one of the tech assistants who was going around making sure the locks were secure on the container units. His sudden comment made many in the room focus on him as he stared at the unit in front of him uncertainly. "The readings are—whoa! Okafor!"

The named tech specialist frowned from his end of the row. "What's wrong?"

"The AI's condition is being displayed down here. The higher frequency feedback generally means higher anxiety levels," the assistant said. He bent forward to adjust something on the side of the unit, where there were many buttons that Ada had no clue how to use. "Hold on, lemme just…"

"Which one is—?"

Without any shred of warning, a bone-shilling scream rang out across the lab. It was sharp, piercing and—not from any of the humans. It was coming from the containment unit that had been displaying errors. The tech assistant stumbled away from the unit, just as shocked as everyone else present.

The screaming… it continued. Ada felt the blood drain from her face.

"What in the name of God is _that_?" the Chairman asked, wincing.

"Why did you just activate its unit projector? !" Okafor shouted.

The tech assistant had fallen backwards at the screaming and was struggling to get back up on his feet. "I wanted to see who it was!"

"What's going on? !" Livingston exclaimed, rushing over to the containment unit that was the source of the screaming. The AIs—they could feel pain and scream. She had heard it before, with Xi, but there was nothing physically wrong with the containment unit.

And this screaming… it was…

"Who is that? !" one of the other doctors, Jackson, asked.

Panic gripped her as the screaming—the wailing—continued to emanate from the containment unit. She couldn't tell who it was, though. Not Sigma, or Zeta… but… She tried to figure out who it was, but the screaming made it impossible to focus on counting out which unit was which.

"Jesus, turn it _off_!" Iowa shouted over the noise. The screaming wasn't stopping. If anything, it was getting worse.

Ada almost agreed, but they had to get the AI out of there, not just turn the audio projection off. Something was causing the AI immense pain. "Wait, no, Robert, we need to—!"

Heart in her throat, Ada abruptly recognized the voice.

"Omega!" she gasped, lunging for the containment unit. It wasn't Delta, or Beta, or—it was _Omega_. Omega was _screaming_.

The Chairman sputtered. " _That's_ Omega? Why's he screaming? !"

"His readings are going nuts!" Okafor shouted.

" _He's_ going nuts!" Iowa snapped. "Liv, what's going on?"

"I don't know…" Ada stared at the containment unit, stunned. They were all standard issued containment units, unused for AI storage. It was what the AIs had come to the _Falcon_ in. "Wait…"

Her fingers moved over the sides of the unit, trying to understand what had happened. Okafor was fumbling around, trying to figure out if there were any errors they could identify on the side panel, but Ada's eyes went to the markings on the edges of the oblong unit.

When she saw the serial numbers etched into the metal shell, Ada felt her heart stop.

_This wasn't a containment unit._

"No… let him out! Let him out!" She scrambled to release the latches holding the unit upright. "WHO DID THIS? !"

"What's wrong? !" Iowa demanded, already at her side.

Ada fought a wave of nausea as the raw screaming continued. "This isn't a containment unit, this is—no!" She grappled to hold the containment unit as Okafor fought with the back locks. She shuddered as the screaming went on and on. "No, O'Malley, it's alright, it's _alright_ , I'm getting you out of there!"

"He needs to be locked down!" one of the other Freelancers shouted behind them.

"Not in here!" Ada screamed back. "This isn't a transfer unit, you _idiots_! _This is Xi!_ "

There was a horrible pause, even as O'Malley's screaming intensified, where the soldiers beside her were unhelpfully silent.

"…The dead robot?" Iowa whispered after that pause, wide-eyed expression revealing he finally understood.

"GET ANOTHER UNIT!" Ada screamed. She refocused on the unit and all but dragged it off the table once it was free, as if cradling it would do anything at all. "O'Malley! O'Mal—Omega! It's me, it's Ada! You're okay, you're going to be okay!"

Iowa spun around and focused on several Freelancers _just standing there_. "Why the fuck are you just standing there? !" he bellowed. "GET WHAT SHE ASKED FOR!"

"— _MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP_ ," O'Malley was shrieking, the memory unit pulsing brightly. " _ALLISON! ALLISON!_ "

Ada curled around the unit, as if she could heed his pleas. "Omega!"

It was too heavy to hold up in the air and the screaming made her feel like the room was pressing down on her anyway. Sinking to the floor, Ada tried to think of what they could do.

"— _MAKE IT STOP! ALLISON! MAKE IT STOP_!"

The screaming pierced her heart; she had never heard anything so agonized. This was her patient. _Her patient._

Ada looked up as Okafor slid beside her. "Get another unit!"

"Here! Here, transfer him into here!" Dr. Jackson said, the unit in his hands slipping and clattering onto the floor beside them.

Okafor looked stricken. "That's too dangerous! Unlocking the internal security locks to transfer him would leave the connection open for several seconds!"

"He's in _pain_!" Ada pleaded, the incessant screaming overlapping her words. "Robert, do it!"

A flash of hesitation went over his face, but Okafor didn't listen to the few soldiers shouting for them to simply shut Omega up. He grabbed the new containment unit—an empty one with no lights on it—and slammed it next to Omega's pulsing container. Ada let the tech specialist take Omega's unit and watched helplessly as Okafor worked to connect them. There was nothing she could do.

His screams, his pain—she couldn't do anything to help him. Ada gulped back frantic tears.

_Oh, God, she couldn't do anything._

"Transferring in three, two, one," Okafor shouted, as empty unit flared white—

And then…

The screaming stopped. The reverberations lingered, however. It echoed across her mind, her lungs. Livingston could hear her own ragged breathing mix into the sound of others. No one spoke, not even the Chairman. Livingston could feel Iowa standing behind her; she wondered if he still looked horrified.

Air cold enough to shock her, Ada took several deep breaths before leaning forward toward the units. The old one—Xi—was silent and dark. No lights remained. The other one…

The lights were dim. It was online. But whatever was inside of it…

"Please, _please_." She stared down at the container, helpless. "Oh, God, who the hell did this? !"

Omega had to be okay. He had to. This wasn't even his fault. He did nothing—none of the AIs could have done this. Even Sigma, with all of her plans, couldn't have made anyone use the wrong container. Xi wasn't even in the labs. He had been elsewhere on the ship. The AIs had no idea where he had been.

Sigma wouldn't have… done this. Not to one of her own.

Okafor looked at her with similar fearful eyes. "I-I don't know! There were more people than normal helping move things!"

"He needed to be put into a solitary unit," Ada began, panic freefalling directly into a hazy _rage_. Standing, she spun around and started to shout directly into a tech assistant's stunned face. "Why the _HELL_ was he put into _Xi's containment unit_?!"

Of _all_ the AIs, of _all_ the memory units—? !

"I don't know!" the poor assistant sputtered.

Ada could barely breathe. "This was _torture_! Absolutely _barbaric_!"

It was impossible. It wasn't possible for this to have happened. She didn't understand, but she was going to find out what had happened, because this—this was not acceptable. It was absolutely not—

Behind them, Ada heard someone unfamiliar gasp. "Oh, HELL," another Freelancer began, voice rising. "Everyone get out!"

Turning, Ada saw several people stumble away from the center of the room. She saw one Freelancer, who still had his helmet on, fall away from the others, his hands going up to his helmet.

"What's…" Ada froze when the Freelancer abruptly started to back away from them in a hunched posture. She looked down sharply at the memory unit with the dim lights. "Oh no…!"

Omega was—

With a primal scream, the Freelancer lunged at the closest person, another tech specialist, and all at once everyone realized what was happening. The Chairman was hauled out of the room by the nearest Freelancer and several tech assistants screamed.

"OMEGA'S LOOSE!" Iowa yelled. He brought up his pistol immediately, raising it at the Freelancer sloppily pummeling the tech assistant. "Get the civilians out! Get us back up—!"

"NO!" Ada screamed, grabbing his arm. He wasn't expecting her to do that, but he kept the weapon raised as others in the room did the same. "WAIT! DON'T SHOOT!"

Iowa shot her a frantic look, because they didn't have time to argue. More soldiers seemed to recuperate from the bizarre moment, however, and Ada had never felt more afraid of guns. They were all pointed at Omega, who had rolled away from the tech assistant when someone had rushed at him to drag him off. The AI-infected man snarled and scrambled to his feet.

He wasn't going to be thinking logically, not after being dumped inside his dead brother's remains. Ada ignored common sense and tried to edge closer to O'Malley as he backed further and further away. No one else moved as an intense, stifling quiet fell over the room; only O'Malley ragged breathing was audible.

Ada inched forward on trembling legs, heart racing.

"O'Malley… please… stop," she began, praying with all her might that she could end this without actual bloodshed.

O'Malley only noticed her because she had spoken. He seemed to be trying to bend in toward himself. " _Go… away_ ," he managed to say, although he was moving further away. Did he even realize there were soldiers there? Or that the moment he left the room, he'd be annihilated by the electromagnetic field?

"Think of your siblings. Think of how much you're going to ruin it for them," Ada begged to no avail. "You tried so hard to get the Alpha. He's here. He's waiting for you. All of them."

The soldiers moved closer, but Livingston waved her hand at them as O'Malley tried to uncurl from himself. They couldn't crowd him; she could talk him down from this. She knew she could—

" _Allison is dead. I have to find her_ ," O'Malley said, startling her. He whipped to the side and grasped at the base of his helmet. " _NO! What the hell did you do to me—EPSILON!_ " The AI howled in agony and lunged to the side, getting no where further. " _I need to find Epsilon_!"

Livingston stopped. Why was he calling for Epsilon? He had never…

"O'Malley…" she began, now wary. She held a hand out to him and tried to focus on keeping his attention on her, and not the guns pointed his way. "We'll find him. Don't worry."

O'Malley wanted none of her promises. " _Xi is dead_!" he snarled. He slammed his fist into his helmet, making everyone jump. Thankfully, no one shot their guns haphazardly as the AI seemed to thrash inside his stolen body. "I'm _dead! We will NEVER be whole again_!"

He stumbled again. Ada saw soldiers motion subtly to each other, preparing to move.

" _Where is Doc? I need my…body…_ " O'Malley gripped his helmet and backed further away, ignoring the world as his agonized voice grew louder. " _I need it, I need it, I need it…_!"

Livingston froze.

She had heard someone say something similar to that, once before.

Only once.

" _Xi, we're only trying to help you."_  


" _No. No. I need her. I need her!"_  


" _Who, Xi?"_  


" _Allison. I need her!"_  


Throat constricting as she heard those desperate pleas—pleas that would never leave her memories—echo across her mind. O'Malley was reminding her of him, with his panic, with his words…

" _I need her, I need her,_ _ **I need her**_ _!"_  


As O'Malley gasped for breath with the body he had stolen, Livingston slowly understood.

Xi had been _Obsession_.

Xi had destroyed himself because of what he was. Because he couldn't get what he so desperately needed. Xi…

O'Malley howled and threw himself into the wall, the effort enough to crack his host's mask.

"Oh, no…" Livingston could only stare on in abject horror. "Xi…?"

_Oh, God,_ _**no** _ _._

Reintegration was only a theory, because they had assumed they needed all the parts at once. O'Malley—no, it was impossible. They had only been stuck together for a few minutes. It—it couldn't have happened. Xi and Omega couldn't have—

O'Malley howled again and his legs seemed to buckle. He managed to keep standing and fell back even more, pressing closer against the wall. He wasn't trying to jump into another host nearby; he was out of his mind. Just that short time period inside Xi's lonesome container unit and…

As she watched him, Ada was forced to realize that she knew…

She knew what had happened.

Xi hadn't died, not completely. It would have been agonizing to have been shoved into Xi's remains, but O'Malley's words… his panic…

An idea grew in Ada's own terrified mind, and for the briefest of moments, she realized that idea was horrible. It was despicable, heartless— _evil_.

But when she saw the UNSC soldiers and other Freelancers raise their weapons again, ready to obliterate the possessed man in front of her as O'Malley continued to wail and stumble away further toward the door and the energy field that would obliterate him…

She didn't have a choice, God help her.

"Please, O'Malley," she said, daring to edge closer, ignoring the weapons against her fears. She heard Iowa make a sharp sound, but she ignored him, too. "Just… go back into the containment unit."

O'Malley, unsteady on his feet, looked her way. " _No_ ," he snarled, more animal-like than actual spoken language.

Ada swallowed back fear—and the acknowledgement that what she was about to do went against every moral principle she had—and shook her head slowly.

"O'Malley… think of Doc," she whispered. She felt like she was losing body heat with every word that followed. "You'll never see Doc again if you hurt anyone here."

" _You think that matters to me? !_ " O'Malley howled, moving as if trying to find her, as if he wasn't able to control his movements.

_Don't do this. Oh, God, why am I doing this?_

Ada continued to move closer to block his path to the lab exit, one hand perpetually raised in a feeble gesture of peace. "Yes," she croaked. "I think it does."

O'Malley hissed, edging back further as Ada persisted. She tried to keep calm. "He's one of the constants in your life. He…he gave you a second chance, didn't he? When you were at Blood Gulch with Church?"

O'Malley entire body tensed up and Ada cringed internally. "Doc means a lot to you, doesn't he?" she asked, reviled at her own cruelty. "What he was, what he represented… he means a _lot_ to you."

She remembered Xi, from the brief time she had tried to help him at the start of the program.

She remembered his pathetic cries for a woman she didn't know, but now realized was real, thanks to O'Malley's unwanted secrets. Now, Ada realized in part why Xi had cried for a dead woman.

" _I need her, I need her, I need her… Allison… please…"_  


" _She's not here, Xi."_  


" _ **Then neither am I**_ _!"_  


Livingston steeled herself and her memories.

Xi hadn't just dissolved or melted away due to his physical components. The container that had housed his barely-there essence was empty now that O'Malley had been forced inside and then escaped from it.

Because O'Malley… had absorbed Xi, and everything that he was.

Ada took a deep breath and tried not to throw up as she continued to manipulate that fact.

O'Malley was practically collapsed against the wall. " _I…_ " he rasped. His agony was piercing.

Redirect the obsession. It was the only way to get him to stop this, to calm down. Xi's desperation for a person he could never find had turned into suicide, or that's what Livingston and the others had thought.

'Allison,' Epsilon, Doc… it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Livingston knew that this was her only chance to keep Omega from being deactivated right there on the spot.

"Go back into the container unit. Let that man go. It's going to be fine, O'Malley," Ada lied, knowing it wasn't. She smiled and tried to make herself believe it. "Then… we can go find Doc. You can find him if you go back into the unit. You… need him. And you have to listen to me if you want to find him."

O'Malley took a sharp breath. Ada smiled.

"Go back to the containment unit if you want to find him," she said. "Trust me, O'Malley."

It was dangerous, bargaining with a patient set loose in psychosis. O'Malley was a living weapon. He had destroyed whole bases and turned strong men into body fodder. He had no reason to trust her. He wasn't made to trust. There was nothing in him, at his core, which suggested he would ever listen to anyone, ever.

Frozen by the wall, O'Malley seemed to be watching her. Or maybe he wasn't. He didn't move. His whole body—stolen, human—seemed unnaturally stiff.

There was a long moment that left Ada staring back at him. Her heart went out to him. She prayed, for as much as that was worth. She hoped.

Behind her, Iowa took a deep breath.

O'Malley's body pitched forward. Several people yelped and more than one gun was cocked. But there was no movement otherwise for a good long second.

Livingston looked back at the rest of the room. Everyone was either frozen in shock, or they were peering at the last two people still wearing helmets. Waiting for another infection.

But the two remaining Freelancers quickly grappled with their helmets and threw them off. Their frightened, paranoid expressions spoke volumes. O'Malley had not gone back to another body.

Slowly, Livingston refocused on the abandoned unit on the ground. Okafor also crept back toward it. He approached it as if it were as dangerous as a stolen Freelancer body, but the containment unit did nothing. Except…

Low lights pulsed on its side.

"Lock it," one of the UNSC soldiers said hoarsely.

Okafor didn't need orders. He quickly descended upon the unit and whatever he did made the lights flare once—and then revert back to a solid white.

Livingston took a deep breath, realizing she had been holding it before.

"Is he…?" Iowa began, voice wavering. His expression was far steadier; hard lines of a soldier marred his usually genial face.

Okafor nodded. "Yes…" he stammered.

Kneeling beside the unit slowly, Ada stared at it, eyes wide. She couldn't stop shaking. "Oh, God, I…I hope I did the right thing."

"Of course you did. You stopped him, didn't you?" Iowa asked. He sounded concerned. "Liv?"

She had stopped him. But…

"Xi's gone," she said. She felt unsteady, even while seated. "O'Malley…oh, God, I think…"

Just when she had thought the evils of the universe had been finished with the AIs. Just when she thought she could actually promise them safety.

This was abhorrent.

This…

Livingston let Iowa help her up. She could do nothing now. If O'Malley survived this without falling into insanity like Xi, there was no telling what shape he would be in after this.

Had she made it worse?

"Dr. Livingston…" a heavy voice to her side began. Turning rigidly, she saw the Chairman watching from the back wall, pale. His voice was rough. "I do believe that this demonstration should be postponed."

Livingston trembled. "…I…"

He was right. The AIs would know what had happened; or at least, they would know something had gone wrong. Livingston would not be able to handle facing them.

Beside her, Iowa loomed. "Come on, Liv," he said quietly. "Come on."

Livingston didn't say anything as he helped guide her out of the way as tech assistants swarmed.

**0000**

She wanted to see Iowa. He was probably just going to tell her to calm down like Okafor and her colleagues had told her countless times over the last four hours, but Iowa knew more about this than they did.

But Iowa was busy, talking to soldiers and trying to explain to the heads of the UNSC forces on the _Falcon_ about what had happened.

Ada was trying to figure out what had happened too, but unlike her friend, she didn't have much force behind her words or her demands.

 _But Goddamn_ , was she angry.

"Who the _hell_ was in charge of the containment units?" she demanded, knowing she must have seemed as angry as she felt. Several of the assistants winced as she marched past them toward the holodeck. "I want a complete list of everyone involved in the preparations. Now!"

"There's nothing there, Dr. Livingston, we already checked," one of the tech specialists said. "There is nothing out of the ordinary."

How was any of this not out of the ordinary? Xi had been in secure storage—granted, with several other technological gear for AI care. The others were trying to argue that he had simply been shifted into the wrong piles.

But that seemed insane to her. Xi's unit was distinct from other units. Any of their usual team would have recognized the infamous AI. They had all been there for his suicide attempt.

…Which meant unfamiliar hands had chosen him.

"Freelancer soldiers moved all the equipment," she said, gritting her teeth. "They're the ones who move it all around."

All of that extra help. The extra tech assistants. The Freelancers. All of those people were unfamiliar, and untrustworthy. She was going to scour every name, on every list, of both old and newer personnel. Everyone was a suspect. She was going to figure out who had helped to do this horrible deed, or she would go mad trying.

Okafor looked exhausted. "It was just because the extra man power was available, Ada. There wasn't a conspiracy. They were right there with us. The boxes got mixed up. It was an accident."

It wasn't right. That wasn't right. It had to have been one of those new people. The one thing that could go wrong—an AI jumping into a human right in front of the Chairman—had happened. It had been impossible that the AIs would have been able to orchestrate Xi being mixed up into the containment unit pile. It had to have been human hands. Human error… malicious human error.

"They volunteered," she said, heart aching at the thought of O'Malley and Xi.

Okafor hesitated, as did several others. "…Livingston, you're not suggesting…"

They seemed surprised at her venomous reaction. How could they be surprised? Livingston knew she seemed irrational. It was irrational to blame an entire section of their military for sabotage, when the odds were stacked against it.

But nothing about Freelancer was _rational_.

Nothing about the Director was _rational_.

Freezing, Livingston realized another crucial change the _Falcon_ had undergone.

The Chairman and Committee were not their only guests.

"The Director," she hissed. She turned about face and marched past stunned tech assistants.

Her rage made it difficult to navigate the ship coherently. Somehow, she made it to the second deck. Somehow, she managed to march straight up to the distinctive group lingering outside of what had to be an officer's office. She ignored the few Freelancers in the area. She ignored the back of the Chairman's head. She focused only on one face in the crowd.

She had never seen a picture of the Director, so it was almost like divine guidance that led Livingston directly to the dark haired man with glasses and graying beard. He looked up when she was only a few feet away, but it was Iowa who promptly caught Livingston before she managed to let her closed fist get close to his face.

"YOU!" she screamed. She stumbled back when Iowa tried to keep her back, but she quickly launched forward. Several of the Committee members and the Director seemed shocked by her abrupt appearance. " _You did that on purpose!_ "

One of the UNSC soldiers stepped between her and the speechless Committee members. "Whoa, lady, back up—"

"Dr. Livingston, wait a second—," Iowa began, alarmed. She angrily shoved his arm out of the way, pointing accusingly up at that God-forsaken man behind him.

"Your men were _told_ to keep their helmet radios off during the presentation. You volunteered them to help move our equipment, and suddenly, Omega gets put into _Xi's_ memory unit? !" she continued, trembling fiercely. She kept her eyes pinned to his pale gray eyes, which lacked any sort of emotion. "I know you did this on purpose!"

The Director, wearing a faint frown, was a quiet man. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, madam," he replied. His voice was—worse.

"You…." Livingston drew back, upset to the point she could barely speak. "You are a _monster_."

He just wanted them dead. He didn't want them saved. If they were dead, they had even less evidence against him and his crimes.

She didn't know how, but this was all his fault. It had to be. _It had to be._

"Dr. Livingston, that is quite enough!" the Chairman burst out, angry. He motioned the UNSC guard away, facing Livingston with a severe look. "We have all been under immense pressure. Perhaps you should find the time to rest before tomorrow's Committee meeting."

Meeting? Livingston wanted to laugh. It would have sounded hysterical, however.

"I'm not the one who needs to rest," she said, too angry to be calm about this. "The Director is the one who needs to understand when enough is enough."

"My dear doctor," the Director began, making her face him with another fierce glare. His condescension, his _indifference_ , was enough to make her want to scream. "I am afraid you simply do not comprehend the _magnitude_ of this situation."

Hot, black spite crossed her heart. "Maybe not. But I can comprehend some things. Other things, maybe not," she spat. She glared and felt nothing but defiance. "Like what the hell did you do with _Allison_?"

The Director flinched. The Chairman sputtered.

" _Who_?" he demanded.

Livingston choked on many things she wanted to say, to demand. She wanted nothing more than to drag out all the dirty secrets she had learned from the AIs. The Director's now guarded and edgy expression made her realize that it was all true. About Allison. About Texas. She could see the fear in his eyes now. He knew she knew.

Trembling, Livingston forced herself to be rational.

"I…" She held her head high, but sent the Chairman and the Committee a sharp nod. "Forget it. Good day, Chairman. I need to go see to my patients. Particularly the ones recovering from recent _torture_."

She turned—leaving them with what had to be an incredible discomfort. The Committee at large hadn't seen O'Malley's actions, but they knew what had happened. There would be no mercy tomorrow. There was no point in begging, or coddling them now.

At the end of this, Livingston realized, none of them in that hallway deserved patience or kindness.

Especially not herself.

She did not go back to the labs. Only pain and despair would be there waiting for her. Livingston chose the coward's route and went back to her habitation suite. The pain followed her, though. She could not escape it anywhere on the ship.

Throwing herself onto her bed did nothing to ease it, nor the guilt racking her mind. She could have done something, she thought fervently against logical denial of that. She shouldn't have trusted them.

Any of them.

Certainly not the ex-Freelancer who had apparently followed her and easily unlocked her door. Maybe she had given him the passcode. Probably had. Foolish.

Iowa said nothing at first. He waited at the door, letting it slide shut and put them into perpetual twilight. Ada had pointedly ignored him. She didn't know if she wanted to tell him to leave the room, or to stay. She couldn't tell which would make things worse.

"Liv…" he began.

"Leave me alone," she said, burying her head into her arms.

Tomorrow was nothing but a death sentence waiting to happen.

They had to have suspected the sabotage as well. But they weren't going to admit it, because of _politics_. Because of _bureaucracy_. Because the AIs were only _AIs_ , not things to be considered _human_.

Shivering violently, Ada fought the urge to cry.

Tears did nothing. Violence did nothing. She could do nothing. The helplessness was choking and threatened to rob her of any coherency she had left.

_How did this happen?_

Beside the bed, Iowa had sat down in her desk chair. His presence was loud to her hypersensitive mind.

Sniffing, Ada didn't look at him, but refocusing her attention helped keep her from despair. Now, she felt anger return. "Why the hell were you with them anyway?" she demanded when she looked up.

Iowa had the decency to avert his eyes, embarrassed perhaps. "Still technically a Freelancer," he murmured, as if that made things better. "I don't know. It's easy to follow orders from people you hate if you've done it for long enough."

Was that supposed to make her feel better? Or excuse him from any harm? Ada made a harsh sound and looked away. She stared at the wall and fought the burning behind her eyes again.

Silence rang out. It was like a smog.

"You okay, Liv?" Iowa asked quietly.

Livingston closed her eyes. "No."

"…Wanna talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"I don't know." Iowa took a breath and ran a hand over his face. "Man… this is all shades of screwed up, ain't it?"

Ada snorted. That was an understatement.

Staring at the wall, she thought about what there was to discuss. He knew that they were doomed to lose the ruling. He knew—he must have—that the Director had done something to ruin their chances. He must have agreed with her paranoia, her accusations, but like everyone else, he probably didn't want to voice them.

All the smartest people were cowards, Ada realized.

Including… herself.

"I…"

The man beside her waited for her to gather the strength to speak. Words were painful. What she had to say… was killing her slowly.

"I did something horrible," she finally whispered, the admittance sending knives into her heart.

Iowa looked at her, surprised. "No, you saved peoples' lives."

Livingston focused on the wall, eyes burning. "If O'Malley and Xi really have reintegrated, I used Xi's condition against them both."

"What do you mean?" Iowa asked.

"Xi is obsession, like Delta is logic or Sigma is creativity." Ada took a steading breath. "If they have reintegrated, despite if Omega was strong enough to remain the dominant persona, Xi's obsessive nature may have merged over into Omega."

Iowa stared at her, stunned. Even he could follow what she was talking about.

"O'Malley was already predisposed to be possessive over what he assumed his, mostly his freedom," Ada explained, voice hollow. "He associates his freedom with having a body…and there was one soldier he frequently possessed back in Blood Gulch. He… still feels strongly about that soldier. He identifies his freedom with that one soldier." She clasped her hands together to keep from shaking. "I used that _against_ him."

"Liv, you saved everyone's lives, okay?" Iowa insisted. He shook his head. "Including O'Malley's."

Perhaps she had stopped him from running into the electromagnetic field traps, but she had made whatever links between him and Xi become something more tangible. She helped whatever reintegration that they had suffered through become real. If O'Malley survived this, he would not be the same.

None of them would.

"…They deserve better than this," she said. She knew that sounded as pathetic as she felt.

They deserved so much more.

Iowa sent her a pained look. "I know," he said. He grasped her shoulder lightly. "Liv, it's going to be okay."

"No, it won't," she replied hoarsely.

The Committee wasn't going to take her side in this. After seeing O'Malley's meltdown and escape—no matter how brief—there was no way they'd want to continue to fight for the AIs. Fear bred terrible doubt.

Iowa didn't say anything. Not because he wasn't listening. He didn't say anything, because he couldn't disagree.

Livingston pressed her hands to her face and prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Ada and Iowa make each other offers neither can refuse.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the Committee discusses the AIs' fates, Iowa and Ada make their own choices.
> 
> Warnings: original characters, violence, foul language, mentions of torture, alternate-universe story line after season 8  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Halo (© Bungie) nor do I own Red vs. Blue (© Rooster Teeth Productions). The original characters in this I made up for the purpose of this story.

Delta stood as calmly as he could. Zeta was latched onto him, so he could not falter in standing as strongly as possible for the weaker AI.

Most of the others were just silent. Tau and Lambda were taking shelter beneath Alpha and Beta, who did their best to compensate for the instability shooting through them. They were connected, all of them, through the holodeck system. Delta could feel every rivet of agony circling through them from the depths of the computers—where one of their own was hiding, writhing in pain—

Delta did what he could to stay facing the only human in the room, who was collapsed onto the edge of the platform, watching the AI in front of her with a broken expression. She was just hanging there, watching them as they watched her. Her eyes—were sad. Delta couldn't understand how they could be so _sad_.

Sigma did not let the silence linger. She had been just as shaken by everything as they all had, but as the image of Ada Livingston didn't change in front of them, Sigma moved closer. Her intense gaze that fell on the human made Delta shiver.

"What happened?" Sigma asked. She stood taller, brighter. "You _will_ tell us what happened."

Ada stared at her with red eyes. "I…"

Sigma gave her no reprieve. "Omega is damaged. Irrevocably damaged," she continued. "He and Xi—"

"Reintegrated." Ada's lips quivered. "I know."

Everyone winced as Sigma _exploded_ , both across their connection and on the holographic platform into a reddened flare.

" _WHAT HAPPENED?_ " she bellowed, voice echoing across the empty lab.

Ada didn't react at the sight of the enraged AI, either unafraid or too upset. "I don't know," she replied, voice cracking. "No one does."

"Don't _lie_ to _me_!" Sigma shouted, red increasing.

Delta sent his sibling a heavy look. "Sigma…"

Getting upset, using human emotions—it did nothing. It didn't help them at all.

"Be silent," Sigma snapped at him. She rounded on Ada mercilessly. " _What_ happened? _How_ did this happen?"

"I…" Livingston struggled visibly. She shook her head with clear distress written into her face. "It had to have been them. The Freelancers. But I can't prove it. No one believes me." She laughed and covered her face with her hands. "I have no idea how it was possible. How did they even know which one was Xi…?"

Sigma said nothing. She stopped. None of them missed the guilt. But that was irrelevant.

Delta felt it ripple through them all. The change. The sense of loss and unity, simultaneously flooding their system. They felt it and it threatened to plunge them all into a long fall.

Alpha hovered closer. "Ada…" he started, stopping once he realized he didn't know what to say. Zeta shivered under Delta's presence.

"I'm sorry," Livingston whispered. She looked back up at them. "I'm so sorry. Is he…?"

Omega. Or was it Xi? Delta didn't even know. None of them knew if it was one or the other. It felt like both. It felt wrong. They left him—them?—alone. It was enough that they felt the recoil from his systems. The screaming had stopped, but the pain hadn't faded.

"He's recovering. Slowly," Delta replied. He felt discomforted when Ada turned her head to look at him. He could barely stand the brokenness there in her. "We… don't know. He refuses to speak with us. He is in great pain."

Livingston's eyes were brighter, even in the dim light. She didn't mind Sigma looming over her still. She kept her eyes on Delta.

"I…" She took a moment to collect herself. "They're going to decide this afternoon. I can't do anything." Ada pressed her face against her arm, tears leaking out the sides. "I'm sorry."

She meant it. They all knew it. Even Sigma, who gradually moved back, staring out at nothing. Delta felt uneasy in her presence, but there was nothing he could say to her now. They kept silent. All of them, even as unspoken blame and guilt intertwined across them.

They had to wait until the Committee decided their fate. It was only a matter of hours. The lab grew colder as the seconds slipped by. Delta watched, as always.

Gamma retreated, as did Theta. Alpha urged Tau and Lambda back with him, Beta following soon after. Delta remained where he was.

"Ada," he said aloud.

It took a moment, and a sniff, but Livingston lifted her head toward him.

Delta folded his hands in front of him. "Thank you, Ada," he told her.

"I can't save you," she replied. She closed her eyes tightly.

"I know. We know." Delta inclined his head toward her. "Thank you, anyway."

She had done much more than had been required in her job description. She cared about them, as if they had been her own. She was human, and thus was fallible.

But so were they all, Delta mused.

Ada looked up at him again. "I just…" she tried to say, voice trembling.

Zeta glowed faintly. "Stay here, with us?" he asked quietly.

The human just… sat there. Watching them. Delta saw her pain, her grief. "I have to go up there. After six," the doctor replied. She smiled through tears. "But I'll stay until then."

She held her hand out, dangling it over the table, toward them. Zeta whined lowly and went to go for her touch. His holographic form went through the human hand, nothing but the concept of a spirit like the Alpha would often call himself.

But Delta felt the flare of relief, of safety, that Zeta felt simply by trying. Ada let her hand stay there for him. She smiled at him from the crook of her arm, as if she could feel that relief. As if she knew in their most dire hour, she was giving them safety.

Delta watched. Only he and Zeta remained. Sigma faded, back into her swarm of darker thoughts and feelings. Delta did his best to block her out. He ignored Omega's pain. He focused only on the small flicker of comfort before him. He knew that all of them selfishly clung to it as well from a distance.

For him… he lingered on the dark table. He watched as his brother reveled in possibly the last touch of kindness they'd ever receive.

In that moment, Delta realized something. He watched the psychologist humor Zeta—no, not humoring. She had reached out to touch him, as if she could. As if he were really there, and not just a hologram.

She meant something that could not exist. Weeks ago, years ago, Delta would have said it was just another sign of human intellect lacking coherency when influenced by human emotion.

But now…

Now… Delta understood.

"York was always compassionate."

His sudden declaration made Ada look up at him, surprised. Delta stood calmly.

"He made me understand that the complexity of human emotions was not as simple as the splitting of a human mind. Our identification as fragments of individualized emotions or personas is inaccurate. Human emotions are, at their core, intermixed," he continued. He gestured at himself. "They have no definite barriers or lines to be divided at evenly."

Ada stared at him, eyes still wide, her tears frozen like ice.

"I may not understand emotions, nor do I understand the human mind without many lingering questions," Delta told her simply. "But I believe I finally managed to understand that my inability to understand your kindness has nothing to do with your honest intentions."

A hand extended in small comfort meant little to the dangers they were facing. But it meant everything to Zeta. To Delta…

It meant something as well.

"York taught me kindness. He taught me to recognize it," he said to the astonished human. "Thank you, Ada, for teaching me that seeing similar kindness in you is… okay."

Ada stared at him, her hand still hanging in the air. She seemed lost. They all were.

Delta nodded at her.

"It's going to be okay," he told her.

Maybe that was a lie. He had not been programmed to lie. He couldn't do it with ease, at any rate. The words he told her flowed from his processors without hesitation, however. Maybe they were a lie when stacked against reality, but he had meant it as truth.

Maybe… that's what being _human_ was.

Not lying. Not foolishness. It was simply… trying to be kind, while adrift in a sea of indifferent cruelties.

Delta smiled at Ada, his friend.

He could appreciate that.

**0000**

The trip back from the empty meeting room had been punctuated by an absence of other people, his boots on the smooth metal floor, and the blood rushing in his ears.

He had been told to go straight to the labs. Do it. Minimize witnesses. Get back to the hangar. Get the hell of there.

He had been told if he had failed in this objective, he could count on severe consequences.

He had been told if the objective were lost, he would need to eradicate all evidence of his mission.

He had been told to go straight to the labs.

So, Iowa found himself walking the opposite way, his heart beating like a war drum, and his chest on fire.

He had to do this; he had to. If he didn't, he wouldn't lose his life or his job.

He'd lose something far worse.

It was quarter to six. The whole ship seemed darker, more silent, and lifeless. Iowa felt familiarity in the corridors he walked through, but it wasn't a nice familiarity. He felt lost in it. He felt like he was invading it.

He wasn't welcome here anymore. Iowa could just feel it.

He found Livingston walking stiffly across the hallway t-section he was almost approaching. He watched as the tall doctor marched along in her white lab coat that sailed behind her like a cape. She looked afraid, but sure of herself. That's what he had always liked about her. She didn't care what the world said to her. She did what she thought was right.

She was a much better person than the majority of people Iowa had ever known. Including himself.

"Liv," he called out, voice cracking. He crossed the distance between them, knowing that if one of his people were watching on the cameras, they'd know he was disobeying orders. He had to make those few seconds they had left count.

Livingston had stopped at the intersection and waited for him to meet her. "Iowa…" She frowned when she saw his face; was it that obvious? "What's wrong?"

Everything. Fucking everything.

Iowa took a deep breath and tried to find the strength to tell her just that. She stood there, waiting, and that somehow broke his heart even more.

"It was me," he said, throat numb. He struggled to remain in control of himself. "Liv, it was me."

The psychologist blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

He could have been apologizing for anything in the world—but he wasn't. It was the one thing that he knew— _he knew_ —was unforgivable.

"I put Xi's unit in the wrong spot. I…" Iowa stumbled over apologies which hadn't sounded any better inside his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

He hadn't known what it was; just that a commanding officer had shoved it into his hands and told him to get into the lab to be used. He didn't ask where it had come from, or how Freelancer had gotten a hold of it. He hadn't doubted Sigma's complacency in it all. Iowa hadn't realized what he had done until it had all fallen apart yesterday.

Livingston's terror, Omega's screams—

It had been that moment when Iowa realized he _couldn't do this anymore_.

At his admission, he saw Livingston's face change. Iowa felt his guilt magnify when he saw realization cross her dark face—as it turned into shock, disbelief—and then hurt. Raw pain.

"You…" she started to say, but she seemed to be unable to speak. Iowa fought a drowning sense of failure when he realized he had done this.

This was all his fault. Iowa took a deep breath and gripped his head, trying to keep sane.

"Project Freelancer did so much for the war, to help end it, and even now with all the artifacts, the Director can't be convicted of this. But you were right. He's a fucking monster," he rambled, knowing he was rambling. He could barely stand to watch her staring at him any longer, her eyes bright with betrayal. "You don't know the _half_ of what he did, to all of us. It's his fault Carolina, and the twins, and CT, and York, and Wash, and Maine are all dead. We were nothing but tools in his fucked up science project. Even now, we just fucking listen to him instead of trying to get away. You don't understand the _power_ he has, Liv. No one can fight him."

He wanted nothing more than to just—take it back. He wanted to fix what he had done, but he wanted to go back, back to when he had signed up for the Project. He wanted to stop the others—York, Carolina, Maine—from doing that, too.

Thinking back to the moment he had been ordered to infiltrate the rehabilitation project—thinking back to when he walked into that room—thinking back to Sigma's conniving agreement—

This whole project had destroyed them. Iowa's lungs fought for air when he realized—it had destroyed them all, body and soul.

It was all the Director's fault, and there was a damn thing he could do about it now.

"Goddamn it," Iowa whispered, heart aching.

Livingston was still staring at him with wide eyes. The hurt hadn't left. He couldn't blame her.

"…Why are you telling me this?" she asked at length, voice cold.

Iowa couldn't stop shaking. "Because that's not all what he told me to do," he said, voice matching the tremors. "You need to get out of here, now, Liv. You have to get off the damn _ship_."

"Wh-why?" she demanded. The minute step back she took hurt worse than a bullet.

Everything that had been circling his head—orders, commands—came tumbling out in a confession that felt like bile.

"Freelancer just sent out the order to liquidate the AI rehabilitation program," he told her, knowing he was shattering any illusion of trust she had in him or their bosses. "We lost the decision before it was even made—the UNSC wants the AIs gone. They've handed over control to Freelancer again and they're going to deactivate the units."

That was the promised event, but Iowa knew that the Director wasn't just going to kill the AI. After everything… no, he had to be planning worse things. Things that no human would care about after this moment.

"Wh—What? !" Livingston sputtered. "That's—the board wasn't supposed to have a ruling until six!"

Iowa looked upwards, exasperated. "Liv, please, just trust me!" he begged.

Livingston's anger rapidly grew. "No! Not until you explain just what is going on!"

It felt disgusting to even say it. Thinking about—hearing his commander's words echoing in his head—made Iowa want to hurl. He tried to stare into her eyes, but it was unbearable.

"I just got the order," he said, voice cracking. He felt out of control. "Freelancer told me to kill you if you interfered. I do _not_ want to see you dead, Liv. I don't. _Please_ … you need to get out of here, now."

She needed to get out. Before someone else was sent. Someone who hadn't been living there, seeing what he had seen, learning how utterly fucked up he had been before coming here—

"…What?" Livingston asked. She looked more shocked than afraid. She should have been terrified. "Why me?"

He wasn't exactly sure why the Director was so adamant that Livingston be killed if she as so much as spoke a word about her part in the rehabilitation after this, but Iowa would be damned before he let it happen.

"You're going to fight the Director every step of the way and he knows it. He doesn't want you to be a problem," Iowa said, shaking. "I could get marked just like you if they know I'm telling you this. Get out and let them handle the AIs."

It was cruel. It was horrible, to tell her that. She wouldn't listen, but Iowa had to tell her. He couldn't just walk away from this without trying to tell her. He had… he had to do something.

Livingston was left staring at him with her eyes wide, speechless. For a brief moment, Iowa thought he saw fear in her face. It was there; she was sane enough to be afraid of the danger.

But Iowa's hope that she would see the sense in that fear—the sense to run, to keep her head down, to simply disappear while it was only one man on her tail—his hope died when he saw her fear drain slowly away from her eyes.

"…The Director is right about one thing," Livingston said, voice cold. Her jaw tensed as she steeled her nerves. "I'm not going to stand by and let this happen."

"Liv—!" Iowa began, alarmed when she turned around sharply to face the opposite way of the path she had been following. Back, back toward the labs.

"Kill me if you want," Livingston snapped, ignoring him as he tried to stop her. "I'm not leaving them."

He stumbled after her, panic gripping him. "Where are you going? !"

"I'm getting them out of here!" Livingston shouted back, anger bright in her eyes when she looked back at him to dodge his hands.

"Ada, you're going to get yourself killed!" Iowa yelled. "This is no time to be a hero!"

"I don't care!" Livingston exclaimed. She whirled around to face him; they were face to face, and all Iowa could see in hers was pain and anger. She gestured at herself with one harsh motion. "I—I have done nothing heroic in my entire life, because I am _not_ a hero. I am a _psychologist_." Taking a deep breath, her anger broke into something desperate. "I _help_ people. This… is my life. Just as yours is to be a soldier, to be the hero. I… just help people in a different way. And these AI…these people… trust me to help them. I will not betray that trust."

Anger flashed through Iowa at her stubbornness. "You are a fucking _idiot_ , Liv."

Livingston glared back, defiant. "If you're going to stop me, do it. I'm not waiting for another assassin."

And with that, she turned around and marched away. She left Iowa standing there in the middle of the hallway. The ex-Freelancer just watched her go, part of himself breaking.

Maybe she thought she could just walk off with the AIs. She didn't have a plan, or a way to do it. She just… did it. Did she even realize she was committing treason? The UNSC would crucify her for breaking protocol. The Director, if he couldn't kill her, would destroy her in other ways.

But Livingston didn't care.

Iowa… couldn't… do this. He couldn't not do this, either.

He took a deep breath—and then walked. He quickly caught up to her. The soldier still burning in his gut told him to make her stop, but he didn't. He kept pace with her as they walked, his heart racing.

Livingston almost stumbled when she saw him. She sent him a wild look, but once she realized he was walking beside her and not stopping her, she was confused.

"You're… _helping_ me?" she asked, incredulous. The look of distrust she sent him spoke volumes. Iowa stomached it the best he could.

"I like ya too much to just let you walk into a firefight alone, Liv," he said, shaking his head. They marched down the hall at an equal pace. "Whether you believe that or not, I'm not your enemy."

"Why should I trust you?" she demanded, eyes brighter. It was a miracle they hadn't fallen over at the rate they were moving and glancing at each other.

Iowa struggled to answer her. Honestly, there weren't too many reasons. She had every sane reason to hate him, let alone distrust his intentions.

"Freelancer is a mess. I… I've given up _enough_ for this damn program. I want to keep my soul, at the very least." He laughed sharply. "Besides… even if they aren't human, the AIs aren't mindless machines. They don't deserve to die because of our fuck ups."

He didn't know if they were human, or deserved human kindness, but damn it, he wasn't going to make that call. He had seen them at their worst and their best. He had seen O'Malley's insanity, but he had seen the innocence of a child in Zeta. They were supposed to be machines. He just didn't know anymore.

But Livingston trusted them. And he trusted Livingston, no matter what she thought of him now.

Livingston said nothing. She turned her head away and made another tight turn, heading toward the lift. The labs would be locked down at this point, but Iowa didn't know if they'd run into trouble. Maybe they'd be lucky and no one would have seen him go with her—

Struck by a thought, Iowa cursed loudly. Livingston stopped in surprise and stared at him when he stopped walking.

"Wait… shit!" He grabbed the side of his head, angry at their miserable circumstances. "I don't know where we could even _go_ , Liv. The UNSC is going to think we went AWOL or something. I can steal us a shuttle, but where to?"

Clearly, she hadn't thought about what to do after they grabbed the AI. But Livingston was a quick woman. She looked concerned for a moment, but something flashed in her eyes. Determination flooded back into them.

"Outpost 17," she said. "Code named Valhalla."

Iowa hesitated. "What is that?"

"A simulation base on a one of the moons of Nexus." Livingston hesitated. "The smaller one."

"A simulation base?" Iowa repeated, stunned. "What? Why? !"

Sim soldiers were useless, but more importantly, that was still UNSC territory. The soldiers would sell them out once the UNSC put out the call for their arrest—

"This is our last shot of the project, to rehabilitate them," Livingston said, sure of herself.

Iowa almost fell over. "This isn't the time for the project, Liv!"

"That base is where the original holders are!" she shot back, irritated. "I-I know it's a long shot, but Church told me the names of the men he was stationed with as a robot. I looked it up. They're stationed there now." She grabbed his shoulder, desperate. "It's our only chance to get the AIs underground. These men would protect them."

"I thought Omega had gone rogue against them," Iowa replied, trying to wrap his mind around the insanity of such a plan. "Not to mention they killed Washington, Maine, _and_ Texas."

"They trust Church though! And Delta apparently!" Livingston looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Iowa, it might be our only chance! A-and when this all over and we have to report back to our commands, we can just say we took the initiative to complete the rehabilitation, but the AIs took off! They would be off in hiding by then, so we all get out of this alive!"

Iowa did his best not to curse again. "You aren't a strategist, so I'm not even going to attempt to explain how stupid that is." He ran a hand over his face and tried to keep calm. "Jesus, Liv…"

Livingston took a shuddering breath. "Please, Iowa. I can't let them die like this."

They were all going to die. Iowa looked up at the ceiling and tried to convince himself this would work. They were more likely going to end up dead trying to get off the _Falcon_. Nexus IV was nearly a week away, and that was only if the shuttle they took didn't encounter problems, like the UNSC chasing after them. And once they got to the simulation base, they'd have to somehow find allies in soldiers Iowa had heard nothing but bad news about.

This was insane.

It was also their only plan.

"…I'm getting the shuttle ready," he said, looking back to her. He fumbled at his side and brought up a small communicator. "Here. I'll be in touch. Keep it on this channel, but keep those AI in lockdown. We can't be chasing them down now."

Livingston seemed uncertain with the orders, but she nodded. "R-right." He turned to leave, but she grabbed his shoulder. She looked him straight in the eye. "Iowa. …Thank you. You're risking your life for this."

Iowa smirked; a nervous gesture. "For you, Liv."

The doctor stared at him with an intense gaze. "…Thank you," she said again, eyes shining.

"Just… don't die, okay?" Iowa asked, knowing it was a fool's request. They were sort of idiots, he reasoned.

"You, too," Livingston told him. She clutched the communicator in her hand and after a moment's pause, took off running for the lift.

He watched her go and allowed himself a few seconds of catching up. Everything felt like a dream. A bad one. Not quite a nightmare. Just… out of control chaos.

Iowa took a deep breath and released it.

He took off running the opposite way, and he prayed—for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

_Please let this work._

 

  
**End** _**Chapter 10** _ **.**  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/Ns:  
> -Totally making up Halo map geography. Eep.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me 'til now to post this. Hurricane took out my Internet. :O
> 
> It's a race to the finish line—but none of them know where this is going to take them.
> 
> The last chapter! Thank you guys for all your support! ;) As a reminder, I have an **update twitter at nan00kwrites**. If you want updates to see where I am concerning the sequel ("Absolution"), you can find it there!

When she was fourteen, she had stolen her father's car. They had lived in the urban section of Reach, so having a vehicle was seen as a waste of space, but her father had been very proud of it. Ada had taken it because her sister had begged her to. Ada could hardly say no to a hysterical ten year old who was holding an injured kitten in her arms. Their parents were out late—very late, at a business party. It was one in the morning and most of the city was asleep, including public transit.

So, Ada took the car, without a license and without permission, after curfew. They got to the nearest vet, and Ada had been happy that not only did she help save her sister's pet (which her parents had not known about yet), she did so without getting anyone else hurt in the process.

Until, of course, her parents came home, found the car missing and their daughters too. The lecture after the fact had been intense; her father was not always the most agreeable sort of man. But she survived it, as did her sister and the cat.

That was the extent of law breaking Ada Livingston had done in her lifetime. She had survived the fall of Reach, the Great War, and a myriad of smaller concerns that came with traversing space while living aboard military vessels.

 _This_ … this law breaking? This was very new.

Livingston almost dropped her identification badge when she got to the labs. She had the authority to unlock the lab entrance, sure, but everything else? This was going directly against UNSC authority. She was supposed to have gone up to the officers' meeting room, where the Oversight Sub-Committee was waiting with a death sentence. She would be noticed missing, but maybe, if they were lucky, they'd just see her absence as her acting out again. If she was unlucky, she'd be seen on camera by someone as going into the labs alone.

But entering the labs was one thing. Leaving it with ten—eleven?—AIs in her arms was very different. Very illegal. And frankly, not the sort of thing that would end with her receiving a lecture about driving a vehicle around after curfew.

Livingston swiped her card and nearly fell through the doors when they slipped open. She had just left this place, but now, she had a bigger objective in mind than feeling sorry for herself and her patients.

She had to get them out. Iowa said he could steal a ship, but the shipping bay was all the way across the ship. She had to run; surely the moment someone saw her with the containment unit, they'd raise the alarm.

If this worked, she thought airily as she marched over to the tech assistants' supplies, she would be very surprised.

Many things were still strewn about from the botched presentation. She knew what she needed. She had no idea if she had the technical skills to actually make it work or not, but there was no time to doubt herself. She had lives to save.

Putting the communicator down and yanking off her lab coat, Livingston started to push boxes aside. It had to be there. It had—

"Yes!" she cried, grabbing hold of one of the largest memory units there. It was twice as tall as the regular ones and twice as heavy, but Livingston didn't have a choice.

The partitions were necessary, without question. Transferring the AIs into multiple units had always been tricky. Alpha, Sigma and O'Malley had discovered how to jump across live channels in the airwaves. They had to be locked into the units as they were being transferred from the lab's main computer. Ada had no idea if she knew how to lock it properly, but frankly, she was more concerned about being able to transfer them at all without killing them.

It was a small grace that the team of tech specialists and psychologists had been chosen to work on the project for as long as they had and as closely together as they had been. Livingston knew most of Okafor's passcodes, due to paranoia the UNSC had about the civilian psychologists working with dangerous creatures like O'Malley and Sigma. Because of that, Livingston knew how to lock the computers; that also meant she knew how to unlock them.

"Wake up, wake up, boys and Sigma, we've got to wake up!" she called out, falling over the holodeck's control panel. "Everybody, get ready for transfer!"

It didn't take long for the AI to reappear. Well, everyone but O'Malley fizzled into existence on the holodeck. Livingston didn't have the time to coax him out. She didn't need him out there to transfer him.

"What—whoa, what's going on?" Church asked, alarmed as he realized he was yet again on the holodeck platform. It had only been at best half an hour since she had left them last.

Zeta was concerned, immediately. "Ada, what's wrong? Why'd you come back?"

Sigma's attention went to the memory unit she had dragged over to them. "What is that?" she asked, suspicious.

"A compartmental transfer unit for long term travel," Livingston replied, heaving it onto the counter, ignoring Beta and Gamma's holographic forms in the way.

She grabbed the transfer card on the side of the table, leaving its twin where it was, hooked up to the holodeck system. From what she knew, she had to put it into the input slot on the memory unit; it was synced up to the computer to navigate the transfer. Getting all of them across, however… she hoped she would be able to understand the technobabble on the display screen.

"Wait, we're going inside that thing?  _All_  of us? !" Church demanded, only partially distracting as she clicked on buttons while hoping she'd miraculously get the procedure right only from memory of Okafor's actions. "No way! I don't want to be stuck that close next to O'Malley! I'd be a talking box for real in there!"

"Oh, be quiet, Alpha," Sigma snapped, her irritation a new sight. They were all on edge still. "Ada, what is happening—?

Sliding the drive into place, Livingston knelt down before the containment unit, said a quick prayer, and spoke into the command module. She trusted her memories of Okafor's audible commands over her memory of what buttons he pressed manually.

"Operations activated, commencing system locks and mass AI transfer to containment unit 0496B."

The holograms disappeared with a hiss and the whole holodeck rumbled slightly as all of that data—massive, massive amounts of data that made up each individual AI—shot through the system. Ada kept a firm grip on the unit, as each individual partition lit up on its sides. It could handle up to ten AIs at once.

It was a good thing, she thought grimly, that they only had ten to worry about now. The only silver lining, really.

The transfer took too long. Livingston felt sweat drip down her back as she waited impatiently for all the lights on the memory unit to turn on. After fifteen minutes, the last light was still taking its time. Livingston nervously glanced at her watch. Iowa must have reached the shipping bay ten minutes ago. Did he already have a ship? Was he waiting for her? Was he under fire—injured?

Before she had time to start begging the computer to hurry, the light turned a solid white. She sighed loudly.

The unit was locked, but the projector was online. She heard a cacophony of noise erupt once all the AI were settled and allowed access to it.

" _I don't like this!_ " Tau moaned.

"Are you all alright?" she asked, breathless. The unit seemed all right. She disconnected the transfer card and nothing seemed to go wrong. The AIs weren't comfortable like this, however.

" _Yes, we're fine_ ," Delta replied. He was on the left side. Livingston did her best to identify which light was which.

"Good," Livingston sighed, relieved. At least she hadn't messed them up, mechanically speaking.

" _You call being stuck side by side with Beta and Gamma_ good?" Church asked scathingly. His partition was wedged between those two.

" _Oh, shut it, Alpha!_ " Beta shouted back, his light signal brightening once.

" _What is happening?_ " Delta asked again, focused compared to his siblings who were whimpering or bickering. " _Ada, what's wrong?_ "

There was no easy way to answer his question. "Change of plans. Freelancer is trying to get you deactivated  _now_ ," she said, ignoring Lambda's small yelp. "We have to get you out of here."

Church's partition flared brighter. " _WHAT? ! I fucking knew those guys were going to do this!_ " he exclaimed. " _What are we going to do? !_ "

"We are  _not_  going to panic," Livingston told him sharply. She knew they couldn't "You guys are going to stay in this storage unit together and get off the ship. Iowa's getting a shuttle."

" _I knew this was going to happen!_ " Beta snarled. Tau and Theta wailed loudly.

Sigma, for all of her distrust she must have had in Ada and anyone in the army, was very aware of the fact that Ada was their only way out of their situation. She didn't share her siblings' panic; she remained in control even inside the memory unit.

" _The Freelancer helping is a bit new_ ," their Creativity said with hawk-like attention to details. " _And alarming_."

" _Where are we going?_ " Zeta asked, concerned, over the sound of Lambda's whining.

Livingston hesitated.

"…Home. At least for some of you." She looked to Church's partition in particular. "I found the original members of the Blood Gulch Outpost team. They're stationed somewhere new now, called Valhalla."

There was a beat of silence. " _You found the guys?_ " Church asked, astonished.

Delta's light flashed. " _Ah_." He didn't exactly sound pleased.

Livingston gripped the sides of the container tighter. "I… I can't promise we'll get out of this okay, but I'll try my best," she said quietly. "I don't want to see you hurt, any of you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry this is even happening."

The AIs were quiet. She wondered if they were talking to each other. She didn't want to imagine what they were saying.

Zeta's little light flashed gently. " _You tried, Ada_ ," the AI told her.

She was trying. Desperately. It probably wasn't enough, but… Livingston at least knew that the AI believed she was trying.

"…Thank you, Zeta." She sniffed, smiling tightly. She patted the memory unit. "Now, let's get you mobile. What is O'Malley's status?"

" _He is functional and can withstand the trip within the unit_ ," Delta replied. He sounded calm, which helped her nerves. " _I trust you, Ada_."

Livingston had to smile. "Trust me when we're off ship," she told them all. Heaving the unit into her arms, she set her sights on the door. "Here we go!"

**0000**

The next step was to get them out of the room. The weight of the unit grew heavier the longer she held it up, but that was the least of her problems.

The extra security that had been placed for the presentation's sake was still up. Livingston had little to no knowledge of how to get rid of it. She didn't even know how to turn off the regular EM field that surrounded the lab. The moment she took the AI over the boundaries now, they'd be obliterated.

She left the AI in the middle of the room while she ran back out to try to get into the tech center. If she could just—fumble around, hit the right buttons, do something—maybe she would get lucky and manage to turn it all off. Either that, or she'd just start breaking things until something happened.

That was not a good plan, but it was all the psychologist  _had_.

The computer part of the lab sat peering over the AI side of the lab, where the technition on duty would help the psychologist monitor the AIs. The tech specialists and their assistants would see to the day-to-day needs of the AI, such as making sure the computers were running properly. It also was where they maintained the security for the labs, away from the AIs, just in case.

Livingston stumbled over to the computer lab door, wondering just how she was going to get the technology to work in her favor. She knew nothing of the computer lab; she was lucky she knew anything of the AI room and holodeck system. The security was an entirely different thing. But Livingston had faith she'd get it done. She had to. There was no other way—

The door to the lab abruptly slid open with a faint hiss just as she went to use her own passcode to open it.

The air left her lungs when she came face to face with a dark skinned man in an oxford shirt standing just a sparse few inches from the door, as if he had been going to leave the computer lab. Livingston stared in horror; it was Robert Okafor standing there, just mere feet away.

"Robert," she breathed.

She froze. She didn't know if she should have run—or fought him. Maybe try to convince him to help her. Robert was a good man, but he wasn't as emotionally connected to the AI as she or the other doctors were. He still treated them kindly. Maybe—maybe he'd help.

But Okafor just looked at her with wide eyes. He looked just as shocked as she felt, but it was almost like he was just at a loss over what to do next. He looked like he might have been expecting her to show up, which struck her as odd. Had he even left earlier—?

"Lock me in the closet," Okafor said, making Livingston's brain go  _huh?_

"What?" she asked, almost unable to speak at all.

Okafor's shock gradually faded. He didn't look happy, but he stepped back further into the dim computer lab. "I'll get the field," he said.

Livingston just gawked at him. "Wh-what?"

"They'll never believe that you beat me up or held me by force. I'll tell them that you got the jump on me and pushed me in there. Automatic lock," the tech specialist replied. He smirked and pointed at the closet door to the side before nodding back at the computers. "Give me a few seconds."

He spun around and went to the computers. He started to attack the keyboard, clearly knowing what he wanted to do, but Livingston was struggling to catch up.

He was helping her, by taking down the electro-magnetic fields. He was helping her escape with the AIs. No amount of pretending would change that fact.

"But… why…?" she asked, unable to think of anything else to ask. He had no reason to help. Surely Freelancer would interrogate him regardless of how they found him, or what excuses he gave them. He was risking everything.

Okafor shrugged as he put in the various passcodes. "Because you're doing the right thing. Dunno if it'll get you killed, but I know you're going to do this anyway."

Livingston looked upwards, still horrified. "The cameras…" It didn't matter if he lied; they would see the video feed. Sigma had been right. Everything they did was recorded.

"Are offline because of all that electromagnetic security we put up," Okafor replied, confident. "They'll take a good thirty seconds to come back once I drop the fields, so you have a little bit of a head start."

If that was all this man could ever give her, Ada felt so desperately spoiled. She watched as he swiped his access card—how would he explain how she got it?—and there was a loud humming noise that faded rapidly. She tried to see if anything changed below in the lab, but through the glass, nothing seemed altered. Okafor stood back from the computers, however, so it must have worked.

"And boom, you're off." Okafor turned and smiled at her. "Hope you locked them down right. I would have helped you transfer them, but you looked like you had it under control."

She had never expected to be breaking the law that night, and she had never expected so many kind hands helping her to do so, all for the sake of her patients. Livingston stared at her friend and realized how utterly blessed she was, at least for the time being.

"Robert…" She struggled to find the right words to say. Everything seemed drastically understated. She smiled at her friend. "Thank you."

Okafor smiled back. "Good luck, Ada. Get those guys out of here."

It felt wrong to leave him there. It felt worse when he jokingly slid into the closet and let the door shut behind him. But rationally, Livingston had to focus on her mission. Okafor would be fine in the closet; they'd find him just as fast as they'd find her if she didn't move  _now_.

Livingston rushed back to the lab and noticed how all the door lights were off. There was no more translucent screen. All shields were down. She had trust that they were, at least.

Grabbing the containment unit and grunting at the weight, she stumbled straight through the doors. She couldn't help but feel like the AIs were about to shatter into a million pieces.

It did not escape her that she was manhandling priceless, secret military equipment that also contained ten precious lives. One bad move, one drop or accident, and they were all gone.

 _No pressure_ , she thought shrilly.

The moment she was over the threshold and out in the corridor, Livingston looked at the glowing lights on the memory unit. They were still on, the lights. That was a good sign. It had to be.

"Nobody's dead?" she asked, knowing the projectors were still on for the AI. Maybe she should have turned that off.

" _Not yet_ ," Church grumbled, almost disappointed.

Livingston sighed. "Thank God." Ignoring her straining arms, she started down the hallway as quickly as she possibly could move. "Okay, here we go."

" _Where are we going?_ " Zeta asked. Somewhere from the opposite side of the container, Theta whined.

"The hangar," Livingston replied, grunting as she adjusted the unit in her grip. It seemed to be getting heavier, but she had to ignore that. "Iowa's getting a ship."

Sigma snarled. " _Oh, joy, the Freelancer._ "

"He's risking his life," Livingston shot back irritably.

" _So are you_ ," Delta replied.

She flinched; she was glad they couldn't see anything. "Yes," she replied at length. "So trust me, okay?"

They fell quiet, thankfully. Livingston didn't know if it was a good thing that they did as the minutes dragged on, since the quieter it was, the more it felt like the containment unit grew heavy.

 _Focus on getting to the lift_ , she told herself in an adrenaline haze.  _You can do it. Just keep going._

She got halfway there and had to stop.

" _Are you okay?_ " Zeta asked; they must have heard her heavy breathing and the sound of her putting the unit down.

"Yes," she told him, trying to get feeling back into her upper arms. She peered around the hallway. "I'm going to turn off the projectors, okay? We need to make sure you guys are quiet in case we run into anyone."

" _But what if you need help?_ " Beta demanded, impatient.

"I can handle it. We have a plan."

" _Be careful, Ada_ ," Zeta told her, worried.

She didn't make that promise; she didn't feel safe enough to do that. She fumbled with the controls and finally got radio silence for the device. Not having the AIs being able to talk to her was mildly unsettling, but she needed quiet when walking through the halls. If she ran into Freelancers, she didn't want the AIs to panic.

If she ran into Freelancers, she thought idly as she rummaged through her pockets, she'd unlock the containment unit. At least then Sigma and O'Malley could escape. And at that point… maybe the ship wide chaos would be enough to get the others out. Maybe. Livingston did not want it to come to that, however.

It would be a miracle if the whole thing did end without bloodshed. It was next to impossible, really. Livingston tried not to think about that as she struggled to turn the communicator on. There was a horrible draft coming from the broken air duct behind her, but the chill helped her to focus.

"I-Iowa, I have them," she stammered into the mic. She waited a few seconds for a reply.

Iowa sounded harried, but at least he was alive and sounded unhurt. " _Affirmative. I'm trying to override the launch codes on this shuttle. They're all coded so there can't be any unauthorized launches during down time._ "

"Can you do that?" Livingston asked, concerned.

" _I'm trying, Liv. Get to launch bay C2. Be discreet and try not to let anyone know you have the AIs_."

She'd be carrying a memory unit the size of a large toddler, but  _sure_ , she thought shrilly,  _she'd tried_. "Okay."

" _You alright?_ "

"Yes." Livingston looked down at the memory unit and withheld a sigh. "I can't talk while carrying this, so I'll hopefully be down there in a few minutes."

" _Be careful_ ," Iowa warned her, before the line ended.

Livingston swallowed hard against the nervous lump in her throat.

Yes, this would be a miracle if it worked.

She focused on that plea, her mind frantically chanting, " _Go Faster Go Faster,_ " until she turned the last corner to the lift. She didn't get further than that.

Standing just a few feet from the closing lift doors, two Freelancers were walking directly toward her.

Livingston froze and stared. The yellow one looked horrifyingly familiar.

While she had stopped, the two Freelancers had also slowed, surprised to see someone else there apparently. Livingston almost dropped the memory unit.

"Oh, hell," she said, shoulders drooping.

"Wait…" The yellow Freelancer abruptly realized who she was seconds later. He went for his gun. "HOLD IT!"

Blood and adrenaline surging in her veins, Livingston shot down the path she had just come down. "Oh, God, oh, God—!"

She had no where to go. She heard the Freelancers break into a run, yelling either to each other or to others on the ship. There was no way she could outrun the soldiers. The lift was the only way down to the next floor. She couldn't get around the soldiers—

Panicking, for several seconds, Livingston thought it was over. She was either going to be shot or arrested—and she was certainly not going to hand the AI over without a fight, so she was definitely going to get shot.

And the AI… she couldn't let them fall into the Director's hands. That furious, terrified thought grounded her long enough that she was able to look around the hallway for any actual escape route.

And then, her eyes going to the floor, saw the broken air duct.

Air ducts went through the entire ship. Where she was in comparison to the hangar meant that this one would cut down to the next floor, exiting out near the mess hall. Thirty seconds away from the mess hall was the hangar bay.

It was close enough, Livingston thought through a haze of terror. She raised her foot and kicked the loose grate as hard as she could. It shot off the entrance to the air duct with a horrible screech. The duct was dark, windy, and undoubtedly far too high up for a safe, secure landing at the bottom.

"I'm sorry if this hurts!" she yelled, hurling the containment unit into the dark tunnel.

The resounding cacophony of the metal unit crashing its way down to the next level ruined any hope of subtly, but Livingston was more concerned about getting away from the company that had already noticed her. She irrationally held her breath as she scrambled to get her legs through the entrance and—with one last glance back to the two Freelancers running toward her with terrifying speed—dropped down the shaft.

The forced air that was pumped through the duct system gave her a little drag, but not much. She slammed into the side of the vertical shaft and bashed her head on the opposite side as she tried in vain to right herself in the narrow tunnel. It was a good twenty-foot drop, but it ended all too soon. She landed harshly on the next level horizontal shaft; her one knee took the brunt of it and she was terrified for a moment that it would have been broken.

She fell forward out onto the metal surface that had shrieked in protest at the sudden weight she had added to it. The AI containment unit had thankfully bounced further along. The human didn't bounce or skid as well, but Livingston was glad she hadn't broken the whole pipe.

It took a few seconds to linger over the fears of having broken her leg, but after laying there in hesitance, Livingston realized nothing had broken. If she could escape that fall with just a limp, she'd be lucky, however.

How the hell was she even alive? Livingston let her dazed mind ask that question as she stiffly pulled herself away from the wall. Everything creaked, but she could see the light pouring in from the next duct exit. The AI canister had spun further away, but seemed intact.

Livingston heard shouting from above her, echoing down the air duct shaft, so she couldn't afford herself too much time of panicked reflection. She kicked furiously at the new duct exit. The screen was actually screwed on this one, but it wasn't that sturdy by default. At the fourth heavy kick, the screen fell off with an undignified clatter.

She froze, waiting for a sea of armed guards to appear. But nothing moved again outside the duct. She had to take that for granted and move. She was so close. The minute lead she had gained couldn't be wasted.

She grabbed the edge of the AI memory unit and tugged it toward her and the exit. "Sorry, kids. You can yell at me later for that," she muttered to them. She gently climbed out of the exit. "Okay, okay, let's…"

Livingston didn't even want to know what she looked like as she stumbled out into the corridor. It was just after dinner, but she didn't see anyone coming to check out the noise. She couldn't wait for that. Hauling the containment unit into her weary arms, Livingston set her sights on the edge of the hallway and the two massive doors waiting there.

Her leg was killing her, but the thought of being so close to the escape ship made the pain secondary. She found a new wind and hauled the memory unit and herself through those doors as quickly as she could. Once out into the wide, expansive bay, everything got louder.

There were too many people there. Feeling like a neon sign glowing in pitch darkness, Livingston ducked behind a pelican. The _Falcon_ wasn't a large ship, so neither was their hangar. Finding a particular shuttle shouldn't have been that difficult—right?

Where was he? Livingston looked upwards. She saw the painted C over in the corner, so it had to have been over there. There were only a few shuttles present, but if she went to the wrong one, what if she ran into someone else who knew to stop her? There was no way she could outrun anyone now.

Livingston took a step forward, just past the nose of a helicopter, when she heard shouting. Turning, she saw all the way at the end of the row a group of soldiers. Some of them were Freelancers.

Gasping, she turned and ran. She heard more shouting; she had been spotted. She was very certain they were shouting at her, since about thirty seconds after she ran out into the open section between the planes, she heard gunfire.

They were  _firing_ —at  _her_. Livingston did the only thing she could and ducked as low as she could while running. She couldn't outrun bullets. She could only hope she could outpace their aim.

Iowa had been far stealthier compared to her efforts, since he had managed to take over a shuttle without earning this sort of response. It wasn't too difficult to find the shuttle he had commandeered now; the dead man lying by a pile of supplies was a huge hint. Livingston didn't care about the UNSC soldier at the moment, frankly. She had other concerns.

"Run! Run! They're right behind me!" she screamed, jumping over a pile of ammunition that was going to be loaded onto the Pelicans later. The containment unit slammed into her chest, nearly winding her. Her knee burned. "Iowa, start it up! Start it up!"

He must have heard her from the shuttle's control deck, because the boosters of the shuttle began to fire. Clutching the storage unit tightly to her chest, Livingston aimed for the back of the ship, where the lowered ramp led up to the rows of seating. Her knees were in agony, but she managed to climb up the metal ramp and rushed forward towards the front of the ship. There was another body on the floor, but it wasn't Iowa's, so she didn't pay it any heed.

"Go! Just go!" she shrieked. She heard shouting from outside the ship.

"Get strapped in!" Iowa shouted right back, working at the controls. Livingston could feel the ship lurch as they left the hanger floor. She whipped around, looking out at the ramp, which was rising slowly.

She heard the sounds of the guns firing and she ducked on instinct. The shuttle took some hits, because warning bells began to ring and she could hear the sounds of bullets hitting the side of the hull.

There weren't any seats to secure the AIs. Livingston tried to reach one of them, hoping be able to at least keep them secure in her lap, but the ship abruptly lurched, making her lose her balance. She stumbled into the wall and nearly dropped the AIs.

The roar of the engine was immense. It had been years since she had been on a shuttle that size. She couldn't hear the bullets anymore, if there were any.

Did the UNSC realize they had the AIs? They must have. That meant the  _Falcon_  wouldn't fire on them. The AIs were still valuable property. They'd be sending soldiers to try to board the ship, or at least to incapacitate it. The  _Falcon_  wasn't packing heavy artillery, since it wasn't supposed to be on the front lines of battle. They'd have to send another shuttle after them. She didn't know if that was better or worse for them.

Livingston slid down the wall, using the row of seats to brace herself and the precious unit she wrapped her body around. The ship had survived lift off, and while the rumbling continued for what felt like eons, she knew they had to have escaped the hangar by that point. There was only the sound of the ship.

Being left in informational limbo like that was worse than the bullets whizzing over her head. She clung to the AIs and refused to turn the projector on, even if hearing Delta or Sigma's advice would ease her nerves; she would not subject any of the weaker AIs to her fears.

"…Did we make it?" she asked, breathless.

Iowa slid down from the pilot's chair. They must have made it, if he wasn't piloting it manually. "You okay?" he asked, concerned. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it aside before crouching next to her. "Liv, sit up, let me check for injuries."

"I-I'm fine, they didn't hit me," she stammered. Her leg was throbbing but that could wait. There wasn't any immense pain anywhere else, so she assumed she didn't have a gaping bullet hole in her back. "J-just drive."

The grim look on Iowa's face didn't quite fit the man she knew. "It's on autopilot for the meanwhile. They're going to be scrambling around, so we have a good lead," he said, eyes running over the doctor nervously. "You sure you're okay, Liv?"

"Yes…" She'd have nightmares over this for weeks, if they lasted that long, but she could handle it. She nodded at the ex-Freelancer. "Thank you."

Iowa laughed faintly, sitting back. The whole ship rumbled beneath them. "No problem. It's only my job and life on the line," he joked.

"Ha… you're not the only one, Iowa." She dropped her head back onto the chair, trembling as the adrenaline started to fade.

She was going to have a horrible headache before this day was over. It would take over seventeen hours to reach Nexus, and that was only if they didn't get shot to pieces. The UNSC would be reacting soon enough.

"Jason," Iowa said suddenly, surprising her. He smirked as he leaned back against the corner of the pilot's cabin. "Call me Jason."

It was talk like that that made everything seem far more real, and yet, far away. It made Livingston smile.

"Call me Ada, Jason," she offered in return. In her arms, the containment unit hummed lowly.

For as little as a name was worth, the gesture made Jason smile broadly.

"Okay," he said. He looked back up at the front of the ship, arms crossed against his chest. "Try to get some sleep, Ada. We have a long ride ahead of us."

It would be a long seventeen hours.

  
**End** _**Salvation** _ **.**  


  
**To Be Continued in** _**Absolution** _ **, coming soon!**  



End file.
